As part of my mini-sabbatical in Sydney, I've been doing a good deal of reading, learning and writing. I started a new audiobook today by Dr. Chatterjee called, "Make Change That Lasts." The book appealed to me because I felt like I was in a rut last year and wasn't doing all the things I know I should to get healthy, and I am still very much on that journey. It was apparent to me that my lack of restful sleep could be greatly contributing to poor metabolism, lack of energy to exercise, low willingness to exercise, and overall bad health, not to mention the risk of falling asleep behind the wheel. So despite my reluctance, I went through the steps needed to get a full sleep study and have just recently started using a CPAP. I have felt more refreshed and my diagnostics show improvement in my sleep, but when it came time to thinking about exercise, I still didn't feel up for it. I dragged myself through some half-ass dance practice and went on with my day.
One of the early chapters in Dr. Chatterjee's book is about hero worship, and how we should recognize that the shiny, polished view we're shown of celebrities can set unrealistic expectations for our lives. My initial reaction to the chapter was that I don't have that problem. I'm pretty self-confident, I don't envy celebrities or try to compete with peers in unhealthy ways. I've lived a good life and plan to continue having an awesome time.
But my thoughts trailed to Sam. Before coming to Australia, we had gone through the longest stretch of not seeing each other since we first started talking. I missed him so much and valued our weekly video calls that much more. I felt insecure about his feelings towards me. Yet, just looking at a picture of him or seeing him on the video chat would brighten my spirits. I thought I might be in love with him, and considered telling him when we'd be together in Australia. But since getting here, while things have been largely very good, maybe better than ever, I haven't felt in love. The criticism he throws my way at times has gotten under my skin. And the fact that he didn't really reciprocate my affectionate words bothers me. I've even told him so, and he argued that his actions speak louder than words, and didn't therefore change his behaviors. He has been more cuddly, more physically affectionate, and continues to dote on me with snacks and drinks which I think is his love language. But the words aren't there and my insecurity prevails despite his actions.
Thrown off by my lack of feeling in love since I've been here, I've been doing a great deal of thinking about what it is I like about him. I always say I'm drawn to his positivity; considering myself a generally upbeat, glass-half-full perpetual optimist, it's rare to find someone seemingly more positive than me. After careful consideration, though, I think there's more to it than that. Even though sometimes he is critical of me and it hurts a little, it also riles me up to do better. I'll show him! In that way, he doesn't tell me what I should do, but he inspires me to be a better person.
Defying criticism has been a large driving force in my life. Perhaps it started with my stuttering problem as a child - rather than get my speech therapy (was there such a thing back then?), my family poked fun at me until I learned to think through my thoughts before speaking, and largely correcting my stutter. Imagine my surprise when I did a strengths test and the third strength was verbal communication. Surely, a person recovering from a speech impediment couldn't count verbal communication as a strength. But when my peers concurred with the assessment, it was suggested to me that perhaps the work I put in to change my stutter has made me a more thoughtful and intentional speaker.
When I went to sign up for my first semester of college classes, my advisor told me that nobody graduates engineering school in four years and that I shouldn't set that unrealistic expectation for myself. However, that was the spoken or unspoken expectations of my parents. My advisor also told me not to take more than 14 credit hours per semester. Well of course nobody is graduating in 4 years if you're telling them not to take sufficient credits to do so, I thought. Not only did I start with 17 credits, I had semesters of 19, 20, even 21 credits. I made up for the deficiency in my foreign language credits, completed an International Business Certificate, studied abroad, took several extra classes for fun (i.e. swing dance, architecture, real estate) and still graduated in 4 years.
My manager in my second job after college, working at Honeywell Aerospace, told me I would never be a leader as a woman in an aerospace company if I didn't become a b*tch. That was my leadership coaching for almost 6 years. I understood the experience that formed that belief - many of the women leaders were like that - but I was adamant that I would be a great leader and I would do it differently. I believe I have accomplished that in spades.
Being told I can't or being ridiculed has driven me to better myself or prove myself. At least when I've believed it to have some truth to it. My Mom seems deadset on this idea that I'm an alcoholic and all my health problems stem from my drinking, which is so far from the truth it's disturbing, but I try to just laugh at it. (To dispell any concerns, I literally have maybe one drink a week in social situations - I rarely drink more than that and almost never drink at home. My Mom sees me on holidays and vacations and I will partake in wine when someone is pouring and the like, but still, she witnessed plenty of days in which I don't drink at all, so her concerns are clearly stemming from her own version of reality rather than actual evidence.)
All that to say, now that the idea of hero worship was put into my head, I'm wondering if my infatuation with Sam is more about proving myself to him to dispell his criticism or to mimic his absolute positivity. Rather than love, perhaps I want him in my life because I worship those traits about him. In a nod to Freud, maybe I'm attracted to him as an authority figure because he criticizes me, much like my family, my college advisor, and my manager. That doesn't feel likely because I didn't feel affection towards those people when they criticized me, but it is an interesting pattern.
On the other hand, another thing I love and appreciate about Sam is that he has a similar sense of humor as me and sees the world through a similar lens. We both appreciate great nature views; water and beaches in particular but also canopies of trees and vast landscapes. The way our joy at seeing such sights resonates in a deep level with me. Perhaps it provides affirmation to my appreciation of the world, which had also drawn ridicule from others in my life. We love comparing our life experiences and our native versions of English, which seem to have endless anomalies and funny differences.
Earlier this week I was questioning whether I loved him, but now I'm back in the lovey dovey camp. I look at photos of him and just feel an overwhelming calm and love for his gorgeous smile and even his playful frowns. He likes to repurpose the lines from Hamilton to joke that I will never be satisfied, and I don't fully agree with it… I want more but that doesn't mean I'm not satisfied. But right now, yeah, I will not be satisfied until we are living together or at least in the same state (let alone country, or continent even). Is that obsession or love? I don't know but I'm calling it love. I just love him so much. 
