All the way through my 20’s, I had a real bad habit of putting people on pedestals, especially romantic interests. In the beginning, they were always talented, intelligent, beautiful, and charming. Like characters out of a fairytale.
I’d fling myself into a rose-colored whirlwind of spontaneous adventures, late-night songs and poetry, and grand promises… only to come crashing down once the rush of emotions calmed. And the picture left behind was far from perfect.
But I kept taking that leap of faith, fingers crossed, hoping to find that prince who would show up when I needed them most, who could always understand my heart’s desires, and who would remember the littlest things about me without fail.
It took a particularly devastating crash for me to realize two big things about myself. First, I was the only one jumping. And second, I thought leaps of faith were supposed to be hit or miss, and that I was just unlucky to continually score the latter.
Thing is, if I kept putting people on pedestals, those leaps would always be reaching for the unreachable. I was the orchestrator of my own crashes. Oof.
So I tried distancing myself, but not so much that I would close myself away. Just enough for some leeway. Time to see if the other person would meet me halfway, and dig my heels in if needed. I also stopped creating pedestals.
At first, letting that go felt like giving up. But when I met someone who did meet me halfway, who I didn’t put on a pedestal, I realized I was still taking a magical leap of faith. Only there was no crazy whirlwind that would leave me disoriented and alone after it passed. It was more like taking a running jump toward another person on their way toward you, epically high-fiving in the air, and gently floating down onto solid ground while holding hands.
Simple, clear, and steady.
The stuff of lasting fairytales.