Love. Everyone loves. Be it people, or objects, or feelings such as achievement or power or attention. Most of us love the feelings associated with being in love, having a partner. We see endless posts and reposts about people who’ve been ‘saved’, about warm hugs, romantic surprises, how it can overcome anything.
We see endless posts about people who are single and wish they weren’t, who worry that there might be something wrong with them. They feel lonely and incomplete.
We see endless posts about those who have been hurt in love. Who are suffering. Who are even hurting themselves.
I don’t quite remember those warm fuzzy feelings any more. I do remember that my lust for closeness was insatiable. I wanted to be by him round the clock, I wanted to be always holding hands, I wanted him to be as crazy about me as I was about him.
I was young and silly, and I still am. I think everyone will always be at least a little silly about love. But isn’t that glorious? That there will always be a little bit of innocence in us all, no matter how ruined we are.
I don’t remember because the time we had happy is about 20% of the years I’ve been in contact with him. I don’t remember because I’m mentally in a funk and I’ve created strange concepts and boundaries in my head. I don’t remember because I was cheated on. The story is terribly complicated. I stayed through their years together, and if you ask me why, I do not think I could give a clear answer. Now all I ‘remember’ is them together. I’ve been on and off obsessed. I’ve raged, overdosed (clearly it wasn’t enough), been physically pushed down and I have definitely experienced severe feelings of betrayal, worthless, humiliation. anger, pain. I believe that I suck in bed. That I’m not as pretty, as skinny, as exciting, that my voice is not as sweet as hers (I’ve heard it, so its a fact, but a fact I felt mattered more than it should). The emotions, beliefs, fears, worries and visualisations are relentless.
I’ve sacrificed a lot for this person, from my education to career, to friends lost and hurt, and tens of thousand that has left my mother with nothing. That guilt, that I am lagging in terms of my career and etc, it adds to the anxiety I face everyday. I know I am in an unhealthy place, and that I must find a way out. I am a work in progress as are many of us.
I read posts where people say, you’re not alone, whatever you’re going through. I agree with this. I have not suffered the most, but it sure as hell feels lonely, and it feels like there’s nothing worse.
But what I truly came here to say is, love is always a good thing. It doesn’t matter if you are currently blissfully happy in love, if you don’t have a significant other or you’ve been battered in your quest for your happy ending. It is beautiful whatever it puts you through because it shows you your own strength, in good times and in bad. It teaches you what is important. And however little you are valued, that you have loved speaks strongly against that. You’re not just loved or unloved, you are loving.
Be proud and have faith in yourself. Because you are full of love.