Soul Wars – Episode 3: The Men Who Restore Me

… continuing from Soul Code – Episode 2: Growing Around the Absence.

The Unexpected Metric

I used to judge relationships on shared interests, engaging personality, intelligence, doing things together, even physical attraction (especially to begin with).

And then recently I noticed something else in the quality of a relationship: How I feel afterwards became more important than how I feel during.

With some people I feel restored and energised, or maybe calm and at peace, grounded. With some other people I feel tired and worn out, agitated, drained, and stressed.

Restoration Is Not Excitement

Whilst somebody who emotionally steadies and restores me might also be exciting, this is not their defining characteristic for me. Much of the time with them feels ordinary and quiet. Even if some of the time I spend with them is exciting, they do not feel dramatic. And most importantly, there is no need for me explain myself, to perform, or translate myself – I can just be and that is tremendously important.

Restoration doesn’t spike my emotions – it steadies them.

In their company I feel less need to mask and pretend to be something that I’m not, I have to perform far fewer calculations about how to respond and what is expected of me, there’s way less anxiety around them, and I am often left with more energy afterwards.

The Men Who Restore Me

Typically, the people who restore my emotional energy and help repair my spirit are consistent and say what they mean. There’s no guessing what the intention behind a statement is and no trying to calculate emotional trajectories when I speak.

These are people whose boundaries don’t suddenly change. If a change is necessary, they will state it clearly. It won’t feel like a rejection because the framing will be clear.

These people don’t ration their warmth, and there’s no sense that it is conditional. Their emotional temperature remains steady.

And they certainly aren’t threatened by my gender identity, sexuality, or depth.

Crucially,

These connections don’t need to be romantic.
Some of these people are friends.
A few of them may also be lovers.
They are all, quite simply, safe presences.

They don’t rescue me. They don’t attempt to fix me. They simply meet me where I am.

When Enjoyment Isn’t Enough

I can like somebody and enjoy their company, we can laugh and have fun … but I can end up feeling tired afterwards – because somehow I feel responsible for the emotional temperature. I can feel a duty to police my own emotions, neutralise my gender identity and dial down my sexuality.

Feeling tired around someone isn’t a judgement. It’s a data point.

My body notices the tension in the relationship, I become aware that I am masking more – pretending that I am comfortable when I am not.

As a result, I can feel more exhausted after spending time with them.

Attachment, Felt Not Diagnosed

I see and feel patterns, and those who restore me have a level of predictability, warmth without chase, and a sense of safety.

With those who restore me I feel emotionally held.

For most of my life, I thought love required effort. Now I know safety requires very little.

The Grief Bit

I spent a long time loving somebody who couldn’t securely attach – he was too afraid to. He would say things like his relationship to my family was dependent on me, that his home was dependent on me, and that I could take these things away from him if I chose to.

It seems to me that sometimes by trying to prevent a situation, you create the very situation you are avoiding.

I know that I helped create some of the very disasters that I was desperate to avoid.

At the risk of sounding as though I blame him for our separation, his fear of it helped create the very circumstances that made it possible or even likely.

When my internal walls that contained and concealed my innermost thoughts and feelings began to collapse, I really started to realise how long I had lived without emotional security. I had coped, but I hadn’t thrived.

I don’t feel any anger about it. Just sadness that my husband and I were so mis-aligned.

I feel sad for my younger self, who was driven by the heat of sexual attraction and paid no attention to his emotional needs because he didn’t even know what they were.

If I had realised these things sooner, I might have saved my marriage, or allowed it to end sooner. Either would have given my husband and I the potential for greater happiness.

Choosing Restoration

My marriage had intensity – physical intensity initially, emotional intensity throughout. That was addictive.

Finally it ended when my exhaustion became absolute. I had nothing left to give.

My nervous system was shot to pieces – and I believe that my heart attack is testament to that. Ironic that it only happened after we separated – like that “you only get a cold on holiday”: I had the time to be ill.

Newer relationships are emotionally less intense, safer, and more restorative.

I listen to my nervous system, leaving earlier or taking a break when it tells me there’s a problem. And I will not force a connection with anybody.

The men who restore me are not louder. They are clearer.