We've got a toe dipped into December now. Hope everything is going well for you!
For us northern folks, winter is creeping in. We saw our first snowflakes in the mountains last weekend.
The game today is answering a delving question: Growing up, were you more likely to fantasize about being the savior or the saved? Were you the one rushing headlong into danger, or the one swept away by that one person perfectly tuned to your needs? And did those fantasies cross into your dreams about love?
For me, I was definitely in the savior camp. I imagined all sorts of fierce trouble to grapple with and overcome. Interestingly, I always expected to pay a price. To sacrifice for the rescue. I wasn't the untouchable Superman who never was really at personal risk.
The construct did carry into my love wistfulness in a curious way. I was drawn to the notion of a haunted girl. Isolated. Alone. In quiet misery. I would be the one able to see, understand, and lift her from that darkness. I realize now that in the end, I wanted to be saved in return. By showing who I was and proving that I would do whatever it takes, regardless of the cost, I would earn my own understanding and intense loyalty. I wonder if something is similar for the saved types. Do they imagine turning around and rescuing their saviors? Let's hear your stories in comments!