
500 Days of Summer is a hard movie for me to watch (ever but especially) right now (everyone feels this way because everyone has been Summer and everyone has been Tom); particularly the scene where Summer and Tom are at the movie watching the scene of the bride and groom waving enthusiastically behind them as they drive away. In the scene, they turn around and sit forward--literally facing their future and driving away from their past--and you can see the excitement and happiness drain from their expressions. Their faces become tense and almost sick. You can see the panicked questions etched above their heads: What have I done? What happens now? Where am I going to? They don't touch, don't glance at each other. They are so newly united, so freshly waved goodbye, then the horror of permanency sets in and they are more alone than ever before. Summer, watching the movie (meta!) weeps and later when Tom asks her why she refuses to tell him. I felt like I might know. I remembered the chapter in Persepolis as well where Marjane gets married and described it as a door slamming shut. The comic showed her peeking out between bars of a cell.
These are the kinds of thoughts that plague me. They appeal to me because they feed my ugliest fears, they have elements of tragedy and drama that are tantalizing in their hideousness. These thoughts hurt me, they are cloying, they are based in deep wounds. As my anxiety has been increasing, I find myself more susceptible to cynicism and fatalism than I have been in months. It's been rough. It's not my best self. The other day I was driving, and this magical thought occurred to me: Why am I dooming my relationship to inevitable misery? Why don't I fight for it? Why am I giving up now, in my mind? I know Jonathan, and I know he will always fight with me. One of the reasons I respected him and found him so trustworthy at the beginning was how he advocated for choice. He helped me see the truth about myself, about situations I'd been in that I'd learned to describe in pretty cobwebby ways, as though I and the other poor players were mere puppets controlled by our emotions. He schools his feelings, I let passion shatter reason's tower. We've both helped each other change in that regard. I can't speak for him, but I know the changes in me have been infinitely right. He loved me for "having a lot of feelings" but he also expected things out of me, held me accountable in ways that others hadn't. Those things I learned from him, that spun my world out of control at the beginning, are what I am leaning on now to help me recognize how silly I am (my tendencies, my dysthymia). My life won't be ripped from my grasp--I have it in my hands always. Jonathan and I are the creators of our home, our family, our relationship. It doesn't really matter what other people's experiences have been. I can make something destructive, crumbling selfish and small, or I can make something beautiful out of this. That's my best self. My best self is faithful and grateful. So thankful for the sweetest moments imaginable. Like today: we went to Northampton with Katie to take bridals and we saw each other dressed up in wedding finery and my knees shook because I felt so humbled by this, why would I ever be disdainful of such a blessing? I love Jonathan so much. He is so good. I get annoyed because he likes to be John Marsden and whoever he'll be in Starcraft 2 but when I listen to him talk about Christ and pull out the center and the intentions of any form of communication while I wander around in the wilderness of detail, I am amazed. He understands about the People and lifting the hands that hang down. I really believe we're going to do great things together. So when we wave goodbye to the celebration and turn around, I want to look up into his face and be glad together about the opportunities we have to do good. That's all we are here for, not to fret about shallow things. We're here to follow Christ and to love the loveless, and to love each other. So instead of a door slamming shut, it will be a door springing open, like he told me once. I'm excited about walking through that door. There is nowhere else I would rather be.

