What it’s like dating someone more brilliant than you

Sometimes in the mornings as I stand next to him getting ready in the mirror and listen to him talk, I think that this is what it must be like living with a genius.

Perhaps the wives of Spielberg and Lucas and Hemingway have all thought similar things. They are always on. They are always questioning things, exploring things and processing things; looking for new and better ways to change the world we live in.

I look at my reflection with stray curly hairs poking out from my bun and broken glasses held together by wire sliding down the bridge of my nose with a toothbrush shoved in my mouth, wondering if the work cafeteria today will be serving hard or soft tacos for lunch, while he’s basically conceptualizing a prototype for a virtual reality news show, all before his morning coffee.

Even his accidents somehow usually turn out brilliant. The world seems to want to give him opportunities to be great. I look around and see so many people struggling and I feel myself struggling and then I look at him and he’s like the guy that doesn’t even break a sweat after running a marathon.

What the hell? It makes you want to punch him or bow down and praise him as a god.

I go through different responses to his brilliance. There was a time when I tried to match him. I consumed books, podcasts, documentaries and dare I say, even NPR, like my life depended on it so I’d feel like I’d have something to contribute to conversations.

I used to check the news site that I work for in the morning but I added 3 more organizations to the list including The New York Times, Buzzfeed News plus alerts from Notify, so that I could feel like I actually knew what was going on internationally, politically and socially.

But it sort of kills me. I’m an empath. When I read stories about bombings in Syria, I feel that. I feel that pain, that loss, that devastation, that injustice, all that is human; I take it on. The impression leaves me in a dark place, a serious place and place of frustration at being able to read black and white words on a screen every freaking day but not actually being able to do something about it.

I can’t stop the death, I can’t stop the abuse, I can’t stop the corruption, I can’t stop Donald Trump, so why keep reading about it?

Why — to be an informed citizen and to talk to other informed citizens about it who also can’t or won’t do anything about it. I’m not entirely sure I get the point, but I guess I probably shouldn’t admit that.

Then I went the complete opposite and didn’t care or try. I watched my silly sitcoms, I listened to musical theater, I switched from NPR to film podcasts, I started napping (it’s nice, you should try it) ….

But then I’d feel sort of embarrassed at the idea that maybe I wasn’t pushing myself. Now let me make this clear — He never makes me feel embarrassed about being me, I just question myself. A lot. I always have, even before I met him.

So I started finding the things that I actually wanted to challenge myself on:

I want to write a feature film.

I want to blog or write something every day. (Hence this blog)

I want to watch myself evolve. I know that sounds weird, but I realized how little I know what I actually look like. I read a book about a young filmmaker that was obsessed with Andy Warhol’s screen tests. So I did it today. I taped myself for three minutes and I watched it. And surprisingly, I realized I had grown up. I had become this really complex woman that I never fully appreciate. It was uncomfortable and exciting and real.

I want to grow my acting classes into a place where actors and artists feel safe and loved and appreciated and free, even encouraged to fail.

I want to direct. Yikes! But yes, I do.

I want to write a book. I have no idea about what yet, but I do.

I want to travel! I want to see Cairo and Machu Pichu in Peru and Beliz and all the wonders this world has to offer.

I want to ENJOY life. I want to enjoy the hell out of it. All of it.

So that’s where I am now. He’s been traveling quite a bit for work lately. In April, he was only home for about 3 days out of the month. I’ve had a lot of time alone.

I’m an only child so being alone doesn’t bother me. In fact, I thrive off of it. I crave it. My work, my creativity, my inner peace actually suffers if I do not have sufficient time alone.

But it’s different when you choose to be alone and allot yourself a few hours of focused attention to your inner callings than when you get a text or a phone call pretty much every week to get the news that your brilliant boyfriend is jetting off to DC this week or to Oregan or Chicago.

I don’t think it would be as bad if I weren’t a competitive person. And oooohhhh maaaaaan, am I competitive.

I dated another actor once for two years and I think the experience almost killed both of us. How either of us walked away from the relationship fully intact was a shocker.

So there’s that, the competitive factor, but there’s also the sponge factor.

I’m a sponge. I know it and I readily admit it. I often soak up the energy, interests, attitudes and so on of the people who I allow to share my life with. It can be a bad thing and a good thing.

Good because I often get exposed to new ideas, new ways of thinking, new places, new music, new everything! I love new! I love exploring! Also good because I feel that I am highly adaptable and could survive or live under lots of different conditions and in lots of different cultures with little to no difficulty.

Bad because you can lose yourself. And I did, I lost myself. I started to think that the source of my joy and markers of success and personal fulfillment should come from the same place where he gets his joy and success.

Once I identified that I don’t have to be a tiny creative doppelgänger of him, I was free to start asking myself what I liked and what I enjoyed and what makes me feel successful.

It’s true, I still enjoy a good nap and a show tune regularly, but I also really do enjoy Fresh Air on NPR and I enjoy consuming knowledge and world through books. And I enjoy creating.

So when he goes to travel to these incredible places and gets incredible footage and puts together an incredible documentary or video piece and he wins his next Emmy for his incredible work, I don’t feel un-incredible. I feel like maybe I get to discover incredible in my own, weird little ways and places.

I also let go of the ego and see that I can learn from this amazing man who I am blessed to have love me. He is nurturing, he is sensitive, he is kind and giving and he wants nothing more than to see me happy in what I do. He even told me the other day that if I wanted to start over and be a master puppeteer, he would totally support that!

When I’m not competing with him, I can be better because of him. I think that’s incredible.

I may look back after 365 days of writing this and call this incredible. I may not. But at least I will have something that is my own. Something that is honest and something that is from my heart that gave me joy in the process.

And that is incredible too.

Like what you read? Please hit the ❤ so others can read it too! Plus it just makes me feel really good.