“I have found the
paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only
love.” – Mother Theresa
I was told this would be a cherished time in my life. While
the source of that pearl of wisdom may be right, I just can’t see it right now.
Her stance was that men won’t always find me attractive and now that they’re
practically throwing themselves at my feet I should relish in it as long as I
can. Honestly, I don’t want to and I could care less about the attention.
From the way she talks, one would think I had the face that launched a thousand ships . . . if you don't know that reference you're dead to me.
What I’ve wanted – all I’ve wanted is a friend. This is
where I have run into snags. I’ve learned that most men and I have a very
different definition of what a friend really is. I treat my male friends the
same as I treat my female comrades. I’m affectionate – but I have my limits. I
do not want to make out with or have sex with a male friend; I think this goes
far beyond friendship. Because of this very big misunderstanding, I’ve found
myself in situations I don’t want to be in and reasserting my boundaries over
and over again. I sound and feel like a broken record.
Those experiences aside, I believe that I have loved until
it hurts – it hurt very much; and love is reemerging. I’m not celebrating yet
because I know there could be another trigger; and that’s okay. I have
experienced myself at my worst. I survived it. I can survive it again. I am
beginning to feel like I did before all of the bad memories started to
resurface, before I was assaulted, because I felt powerless to stop what was
occurring in my life. I’m happy and once again finding joy in even the smallest
of things. I’m still working on not thinking I’m going to ruin everything I
touch, that nothing good can possibly come my way because my existence is
somehow a form of cancer. I don’t know what embedded this thought in my mind.
I’ve carried it with me for many years and I’m working really hard to snuff it out.
I have grieved the Beloved. I’m still processing. I’m
allowing patience for myself and asking the same from others. I don’t want to
find that I’m simply leaping from one thing to another just because my heart
was broken for a while. I don’t want someone to attempt to ‘fix’ me. It will
come on its own; and time has become my new best friend. I’ve seen him (the Beloved) on a
couple of occasions. The last time we ran into each other we weren’t both
scrambling for the door to get away from one another; we even exchanged a few
words.
I have yet to decide if I’m still grieving him or the
memories of him. I said once that no matter the outcome, my time with him would
be one of the most cherished. It still is. Despite the ending, it still is. If
he’s still searching for that part of himself he was struggling to find, I hope
it comes to him.
The Universe has so much more for you, Beloved.
My time of mourning seemed to function as some sort of
pheromone – or perhaps it is because I’ve been guarding my heart with tenacity
and ferocity. I have no idea why this personality quirk would be attractive to
anyone.
This is my future - I have accepted it.
I have learned to resist immediately responding to a
compliment from a male with, “f*ck off.” I was told by someone with far more
intuition and wisdom than I that I give a lot of love to others and I need to
extend that to myself. As I’ve attempted to turn some of that energy inward I’m
more open to others and don’t look at them like a rabid guard dog that will
attack before they get too close. As I learn to trust myself again, I trust the
world around me.
These are my guardians - my guidance when I don't know where to go.
On the note of trust, I met someone several weeks ago at a
milonga. He introduced himself and said he was in my tango class. While I smiled
and was cordial, I remember thinking to myself, “Yeah right, a**hole! I’ve heard it all before.” Seriously – I have
heard it all before. I was extremely guarded and suspicious. As it turns out,
he is in my tango class. Damn. It.
He did express interest in me from the beginning. I had
grown so tired of the attention, so tired of the lies and so tired of the ingenuine that would do
anything just to have my attention for a second. I didn’t want the attention. I
didn’t want the connection . . . I
merely wanted to hole myself away for a while.
I can just lay here for a while, right?
I was honest with him. I wasn’t ready for a relationship and
still trying to get over someone. I didn’t understand what had taken place – it
was far bigger than I am. I merely wanted space to sort it out. I asked him for
friendship; while he expressed his objection, he honored my request and respected
the boundaries I set. He’s granted me the space to approach him at my own pace thus far.
"Beauty is truth's smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror." - Rabindranath Tagore
