Found my wedding album the other night and looked through it. I so don’t look like me in the pictures. Alex looks essentially the same to me — handsome, a twinkle in his eye, relatively relaxed in the world. I look like a very uptight, nervous, somewhat overweight person who is not comfortable in her own skin. I don’t look fun – at all. Nor do I particularly look in love. Unless nervous counts as in love.

I re-read my dad’s comments that he made as part of the ceremony and they are, uhmm, polite. They are warm, certainly, and wish us well. But if you dig, they don’t register confidence. He married my mom when she was 19 and pregnant with me, so it’s not like he was the expert of Perfect Unions. And my parents were certainly friends first and foremost – not dreamy lovers. He sensed already, though, that Alex wasn’t going to be a good caretaker. He knew – I hope – that I was tough enough to take care of myself, but you always want your kids to be with someone who will hold up his or her half — or more. I think about how much I needed holding up then–emotionally fragile as I was. The fact that Alex hadn’t run screaming from the room as I dealt with depression and a sexual abuse memory translated to “caretaking for me.” But now I see that not running away and care taking are not the same thing.

I have this legacy of being afraid of being taken care of, of leaning on someone else too much. When C. says he adores me, I shrink and shirk. And yet, really, when have I ever been taken care of in a really essential and loving way. When have I been adored and respected, my needs listened to without the other person either running or trying to fix me in ways that I didn’t need or want to be fixed? Care taking is essentially about listening, about being present. It’s about bringing doughnuts in the morning and cleaning up the kitchen. But sometimes it’s also someone meeting you in the mid-afternoon when her heart is broken and sitting as a witness as she spills all of her beans. I am, it appears, being taken care of and wow, is it scary. And enormous in possibility.

**It’s been suggested that taking care of isn’t the right term. Nurtured, being seen, being present with … these are perhaps better options. And ya know what? I’m down with that.