During my therapy session yesterday, we spent the last 15 or so minutes talking about how revisiting my values and goals went. Thankfully, my values didn’t seem to shift at all in the aftermath of the breakup with Kaylee. And, with the exception of a few goals specifically tied to her and building our relationship, most of the goals I had written out back in April are all still things I want to do (if I hadn’t already done them in the months that passed since I drafted them).

Two of those goals–writing the book version of “Because of Emily” and going to grad school–are much longer term, so I also broke them down into somewhat of a three-year plan that I shared with my therapist. She provided a bit of feedback on how to break the milestones down into tangible items, but otherwise applauded me for thinking so deeply about what I want to do.

After we ended the session, I continued reflecting on that statement: what I want to do. It’s a notion I had never really contemplated up until now because, for better or worse, I was perfectly content living out Emily’s dreams.

Latching to Her Dreams

I can’t say for certain when it started, but my best guess would be the first time we booked a room at the Opryland Hotel to take advantage of the waterpark Soundwaves. We spent what felt like a lifetime (but was probably just an hour) sitting in a two-person innertube, facing each other, going in circles in the lazy river. As I massaged her feet, she told me all about her bucket list.

The bucket list was originally her list of things she wanted to do before she died when she found out she was in heart failure. But, after the transplant, she transformed it into a lengthy list of lofty goals as part of her desire to “live a wholehearted life.” Oddly enough, one of those bucket list items was to stay in the very hotel we were in that day — an item she originally planned to check off on December 23, 2017 but instead got her “second-hand heart.

As she told me all of her hopes and dreams, I loved nearly all of them. But, when she turned the tables and asked me, “So, what’s on your bucket list?” I didn’t really have an answer. I had spent so long just trying to survive that the idea of the future had ever crossed my mind.

“Maybe my bucket list will be helping you check items off of yours?”

As the months passed, I made it my mission to help her check items off her list. We went to St. Louis and Chicago. I stayed up late nearly every Sunday night, editing her grad school papers and pushing her to not give up and quit pursuing her MSW. I kept tabs on touring artists so we could snag tickets to ones on her list (and then we didn’t even get to go).

I never really thought of it that way at the time, that I was simply living to let her live out her dreams. And, even if I occasionally realized it, I didn’t really mind. That woman held my entire heart, and seeing her happy made me happy, too.

Desires Unfulfilled

I think one of the most dangerous things about two overthinkers deciding to spend the rest of their lives together is this: they plan out all of it at the very beginning. By the time Emily died, we had an entire timeline that would span at least 20 years.

We planned to get married in 2024, at which point we would have already also done all the “preparations” needed to expand our family. Emily would likely have her LCSW by 2025 or 2026, at which point she’d look for a job that paid well so I could go to grad school and either a master’s in counseling or a PsyD. By the time I finished that, Meredith and Eleanor would be in high school, and we could start figuring out what it would take to open the treatment center Emily wanted to start.

It all made sense and felt right. Emily would get to pursue her dreams of working with people with eating disorders, I’d get to help people by being a part of that, and we planned to develop a “whole person” approach to treatment that would include a lot of trauma work (which was the one thing in all of this I was passionate about).

And I think that is part of why I completely fell apart when Emily died. Not only did I lose the love of my life and the one person who I felt actually understood me and saw me completely, but I lost the entire path I planned to walk along for the rest of my life.

I Can Check Off Items, But I Can’t Fill Her Shoes

Since Emily died, I think I’ve placed this unrealistic expectation on myself that I have to “fill her shoes.” I have to be the person she was for all of the people in her life. I must pursue all of our goals, like opening the treatment center. And, most of all, I have to keep her spirit alive.

A few months ago, I was having a bad day and ended up on the couch in my best friend’s office at work. I don’t remember what started the conversation, but I do remember starting to cry as I shared the weight of all of this out loud for the first time. And, as always, my friend provided words of wisdom that, while I can’t remember them fully, the gist of it was: I don’t have to do everything Emily wanted to do because I am not Emily.

And, while I hate to admit it, she’s right.

Can I continue checking off all 50 states and other bucket list items for her? Absolutely! Do I have to go skydiving even though I can barely board a flight by myself because that was one of the items on the list? No, no I do not. And Emily will be okay with that.

I know Emily would want me to live my life, and that’s what I need to start doing. She’ll always be a part of me, and I’ll take Emily Bear everywhere I travel, but I am not Emily… and I could never be her no matter how hard I tried.