I'm not a boulder
A workshop discussion about formatting became a self-reflective moment
“Oh, I’m not a bolder,” I said to a workshop attendee asking me about formatting poems on the page with italics or bolding. We all chuckled at my phrasing, “What a sentence that was. Have you all seen Shrek? ‘That is a nice boulder.’” Then another attendee said my catchphrase back to me, “There’s a poem in that!” What seemed like a funny little side tracked moment turned into something bigger later in the workshop.
As we began discussing how to find poems in anything, I said, “There’s probably a metaphor somewhere in my ‘I’m not a boulder’ comment. I’ll find it eventually.” Again, what seemed like a brief callback to reinforce my point became something larger later in the workshop.
While everyone was writing, I remembered a poem I wrote almost eight years ago where I refer to myself as a boulder. I pulled it up and realized that I need to write an update to that poem. I no longer view myself or relationships the way I once did, and I’ve grown significantly since then.
Here is the poem I wrote in 2017:
TO THE MOTHER OF MY EX Even though you wish it were true I was not a stone for him to skip on water nor was I the riverbed ready to soak his socks with a wrong step No matter how much you wish you knew who I was You stopped at my toxic-pond upbringing and believed I was too broken refusing to see the retaining walls I had built When he wanted to share his happiness with you you threw him a punctured life jacket and made him believe I was his drowning You chose to not see me as the boulder I was Ready to steady him as he learned his way and give him a place to rest when the water became too strong but you made him believe I was too much for him to breathe and stand on his own Made him believe I was too much ---- To the mother of my future spouse Thank you for letting me be a boulder in the river
While this is a solid poem for who I was back then — and even who I was just a couple of years ago while married — I am no longer that person. I am no longer the boulder in the river. Not in the same way, at least.
For most of my life, I believed my role was to coach my partner into their best self. To show them their potential. To tirelessly sacrifice myself for them. I believed they should need to lean on me in order to reach their potential and that I was required to be their rock.
My marriage began fading when my boulder started eroding. I was weary from constantly coaching year after year, relationship after relationship. I learned that my sacrifices were not sustainable if I was going to be a full person myself. I need my partner to be a whole person on their own. I need a partner who already knows who they want to be, what they want in life, and the work they’ll put in.
Being a “boulder in the river” was an unexpected metaphor for being a stepping stone for them. All of my past relationships learned who they wanted to be after me and kept flowing on down the river without me.
I’ve realized that I am not the boulder. I want a relationship where we are in our own kayaks tackling the same river together. Resting along the river banks and helping each other as needed. I will always be a soft place to land when they’re tired, but I will keep flowing down the river with them. I am in my kayak already. I am whole. I am not a boulder anymore.
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