I do not know how long my internet will last (I am "sharing" with a neighbor) but I wanted to take a moment to write down a couple of things that happened in the process of this move that ... I don't know, shocked me. If there was a message to be told, I think it came across loud and clear.
A few roommates ago (one of the "bad ones") I remember we discussed the idea of God. I am constantly struggling with the strength of my faith. I have beliefs that are constantly tested and challenged by the day to day of real life and the painfulness of reality.
I remember my roommate said something thar really stuck with me. He said he didn't believe in God because he'd never witnessed a miracle. It was the tone in his voice that caught my attention. It wasn't the sort of smug self-important tone he usually had, but one of genuine longing and disappointment. I got the distinct feeling that perhaps he might change his mind if ever he had the chance to see a true miracle.But what is a miracle? Is it as the Bible would have you believe, those who can't see suddenly regain their sight? A person who cannot stand or walk can suddenly dance out of their chair, forever healed by the power of God? Or are miracles something that, if you look closely enough, you see every day?
It's difficult for me to think that we are somehow all connected or that everything means something. It's difficult because I don't understand why in all the universe, I have yet to find someone who is willing to go the distance with me, someone who wants real love and a lifetime to explore it in. It's difficult for me to imagine that all those times I was beaten as a child, and lay awake in fear and silent resentment, that there was a bigger purpose for it all, a deeper meaning that only God himself understands or plans for us.
What if we do witness miracles every day but don't notice them when they happen? What if we were cognicent, even for just a moment, of the bigger picture?
I say all this not to confuse the issue or pontificate on the idea of God's bigger plan or even to be so bold as to say that I myself understand the purposes we serve here on this planet. But I do know, that for some reason, I have been allowed to see a few things lately that gladden my soul.
After leasing my apartment, I had to get renter's insurance-yet another hidden cost to renting I'd forgotten all about. I'd never gotten insurance before and didn't know the first thing about it. I said a few quick prayers and made my way to the local AAA office to inquire about it.
It wasn't a busy day and I went in the middle of the week. I sat on a chair and waited, almost as if one would wait for an interview, until I was greeted by the agent who was planning to sell me the insurance.
I was expecting the usual sales pitch and customary attempt to sell me more than I needed. I hoped that I could wade through the BS and walk away with the cheapest plan possible. But in the end, I got more than I bargained for ...
Long story short, at some point, as is usual, he had to ask me what I did for a living. We started talking about my job and I hadn't even gotten to the part where I was going to tell him that I worked with juveniles. But we fell into this sort of easy conversation that I felt was necessary on a level I didn't understand. My feeling of this was confirmed a few minutes later when, after a few questions from me, he told me that he and his wife had considered becoming foster parents but weren't sure they should do it. Having come from a similar background, I found the voice inside of me rise up and tell him that not every foster care comes out of the system broken. Some of us make something of ourselves. I encouraged him that it was a good thing to do ... and at the end of our conversation, he only sold me the insurance I needed, and told me the complete truth about what I needed and what I didn't. In exchange, I think I managed to encourage him that being a foster parent was a rewarding experience and it is my belief that he and his wife would make wonderful surrogate parents to those unfortunate enough to find themselves in less than ideal houses where abuse and mental illness can sometimes capsize a family.
As I left the building, I was overcome with a sense of pride and joy. For the first time in a really long time, I felt as though I had done a truly good deed. It was as if I was supposed to be there that day to answer his questions and alieve his fears ...
Could that not be called a miracle? The child he takes in and saves today is the person who saves your life tomorrow. The heart that's rescued at its most vulnerable moment is the soul that breathes love into relationships in the future.
But that is not the only miracle that I have may had inadvertently been a part of.
It also has to do with leasing this apartment itself and the guy who showed it to me. He showed me the apartment and, I don't know how to explain this but, there was a sort of energy between us (not a romantic one---I later found out he had a girlfriend anyway) but a sort of energy that tells me that something else is yet to come. It's as if we have known each other before, without a formal introduction. I found myself asking him questions I would never have the couarage to ask someone, let alone someone I just barely met-questions about his life and how he came to be living in California. I should mention that I detected his slight accent and somehow we just fell into easy conversation.
Anyways, after I leased my place, part of the requirements was for me to tell him what I did for a living. I didn't actually write it down, but rather faxed over my pay stubs as was required.
When I came in to see him, to sign the paperwork, there was a knowing gleam in his eye. "I really want to talk to you." he said to me. Well, it turns out that he has wanted to get a job like mine for years. He has wanted to make a diffierence in people's lives and has never had anyone tell him how to do it or encourage him to go for it. He got stuck in the leasing business because he feels he's a good salesman, but something else has been tugging at his heart ...
We are supposed to go to coffee on Friday and I find myself so excited. Rarely do you get the opportunity to tell someone (knock on wood) what a great job you have and how much it means to you to be a part of something bigger than yourself.
Even if we don't end up meeting, it's as if a giant seed was planted there in his heart-a seed that has encouraged him to grow and perhaps seek out that job where he is helping people. Perhaps it will be where I work, and perhaps it will be somewhere else. But it was like watching the sun as it lights up the darkness. It was like watching that moment when the genius discovers some universal secret they have forever been trying to grasp.
Anyways, I am not sure if these things I have witnessed count as miracles. Perhaps they are nothing more than my being in the right place at the right time. But seeds have been sown and thoughts taking root within open hearts and that is something that will have a positive impact on another human being for years to come.
It was almost as if I was supposed to move so that I could run into these people so I could help plant these seeds so that they could go on to fulfill whatever plan God has for them. Wow. I don't know if it's even as grandiose as that, or even if it's as meaningful as I seem to make it. I don't know if that was part of God's master plan or I don't even know ...
All I know is that, if you asked me, I would tell you that miracles are possible. We just have to open our hearts to their endless posibilities and wait for that magical moment when they appear and change not just someone else's life, but our own lives as well.
I don't know what the master plan is and I do admit I continue to struggle with faith and loneliness and a million other things ... but these miracles, even in their smallest measure, convince me that there has to be something out there in the cosmos even if we don't always see it for ourselves.
Perhaps we don't just walk the path to witness a miracle, perhaps in many ways, we are the miracle.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Real Friends
I moved again this weekend. You'd think that it would be like a mantra I'd get tired of chanting. It's true, it feels like I move almost every other year. Perhaps this time, things will be different. Perhaps in striking out on my own, making my own path, I will be delighted to discover my own sense of freedom, revel in my own realizations of independence and the ability to stay in one place for as long as I like-and as long as I can afford the rent.
Truly, I learned who my real friends were. Some of my friends traveled well over an hour to make it to my house. They didn't complain about high gas prices or even the distance, but came with a smile and willing hands to help me load up the moving truck.
I'll refer to everyone by the first letter of their name-to protect their identity. R and his son Z showed up... Z had been at grad night all night long and hadn't gotten even an hour of sleep. R had stayed up with his sick wife (cancer) and had very little sleep of his own ... A had gone on an all-night fishing trip that ended at 4 in the morning, and here she was, just a few short hours later, grinning as she loaded a coffee table and two end-tables into her car. S had stayed up talking to a friend in need until 3:00 a.m.... these are just a few of the stories I heard that day. Despite the fact that they were exhausted, they came anyway.
I don't blame those who flaked out or came up with some lame excuse or another (it's too far or it takes too much time or blah blah blah) but I found myself disappointed for several reasons. The people who upset me the most were the ones who promised to be there, and then came up with some excuse as to why they couldn't make it--at the last minute of course. What happened to the integrity (remind me to write a future blog about this) of doing what you say? The worst quality to have, in my opinion, is flakiness. Because when you tell someone you'll do something, you're only as good as your word.
I also know to invest less energy and time into their friendship in the future. After all, a wise person once told me that the true test of a friendship is the test of need. When you need something, who is there to help you out? Who makes excuses and runs away?
I realized that when a friend is in need, no distance is too great, no task too large, no need too great.
These people are my heroes. They worked their butts off in 100+ degree weather, staying until every last box and piece of furniture was safely in my house. That's after loading it up in the heat, and treking up and down two flights of stairs just to get it to me. Now that, I feel, is true heroism.
Now that the dust has settled (and the unpacking begins) I am looking over that day with a mix of relief and astoundment at the generosity of these people. I hope that the time arises when I can help them out the way they have helped me.
To my friends, my real friends, I thank you. :)
Truly, I learned who my real friends were. Some of my friends traveled well over an hour to make it to my house. They didn't complain about high gas prices or even the distance, but came with a smile and willing hands to help me load up the moving truck.
I'll refer to everyone by the first letter of their name-to protect their identity. R and his son Z showed up... Z had been at grad night all night long and hadn't gotten even an hour of sleep. R had stayed up with his sick wife (cancer) and had very little sleep of his own ... A had gone on an all-night fishing trip that ended at 4 in the morning, and here she was, just a few short hours later, grinning as she loaded a coffee table and two end-tables into her car. S had stayed up talking to a friend in need until 3:00 a.m.... these are just a few of the stories I heard that day. Despite the fact that they were exhausted, they came anyway.
I don't blame those who flaked out or came up with some lame excuse or another (it's too far or it takes too much time or blah blah blah) but I found myself disappointed for several reasons. The people who upset me the most were the ones who promised to be there, and then came up with some excuse as to why they couldn't make it--at the last minute of course. What happened to the integrity (remind me to write a future blog about this) of doing what you say? The worst quality to have, in my opinion, is flakiness. Because when you tell someone you'll do something, you're only as good as your word.
I also know to invest less energy and time into their friendship in the future. After all, a wise person once told me that the true test of a friendship is the test of need. When you need something, who is there to help you out? Who makes excuses and runs away?
I realized that when a friend is in need, no distance is too great, no task too large, no need too great.
These people are my heroes. They worked their butts off in 100+ degree weather, staying until every last box and piece of furniture was safely in my house. That's after loading it up in the heat, and treking up and down two flights of stairs just to get it to me. Now that, I feel, is true heroism.
Now that the dust has settled (and the unpacking begins) I am looking over that day with a mix of relief and astoundment at the generosity of these people. I hope that the time arises when I can help them out the way they have helped me.
To my friends, my real friends, I thank you. :)
Saturday, June 14, 2008
A Puzzle
So I can't think of a title to this blog. But have you ever had one of those days where you make all kinds of mistakes and you look back over your day and were like, "Oh my goodness, did I actually do that?"
This was one of those embarassing days where I want to run and hide in my cave and not come out for a really long time.
It was a friend's birthday last week, and today was his birthday party. I was a little nervous going to this since I probably would be one of the only single people there and always have a difficult time talking to strangers. It used to be so simple when I was with S or J. S would go with me and mope about until we left (he hated parties and groups of people) and J would make up some reason not to go. So it was always easier for me to make excuses for coming by myself. "S wasn't feeling well." or "J couldn't make it." Both of those sound better than showing up alone especially when children of all ages are clinging to their parents and they are all exchanging funny tidbits about their children while I can only smile and nod at what they are saying.
My friend Denise ended up rescuing me, and doing a fantastic job of it. Her quick wit and easy-going personality is always a welcome addition to what might have otherwise been a disaster for me going alone. Of course we were met with the usual "couple" jokes, but in the end, it proved better than me showing up by myself.
But here's where I got stupid. First of all, I'd been packing all morning, then ran to Ikea (a cool place to get home decorating ideas) and my wardrobe is lacking at the moment because practically all of my clothes are packed tightly into boxes stacked in the living room.
Anyways, I didn't really have anything decent to wear, didn't really have a chance to put makeup on or look cute, and my hair--well let's just say that it looked like I walked through a wind tunnel. That's what happens to curly hair when you try to straighten it without an actual straightener. Trust me on this.
So I'm sitting across the table from a co-worker whom I actually respect and think is cool, and he brought his girlfriend. She seemed as shy as he was and didn't even seem to acknowledge my existence. Of course she didn't introduce herself so I guess I shouldn't feel too terribly bad (but I do) because I didn't even say a word to her ...
Okay, so a little history here ... normally speaking, this guy and I work together. He's a great, intelligent, nice guy. But the thing is, it seems as though we can barely come up with two words to say to one another and I can't figure out why! When we're in a group, it doesn't seem to be a problem. But when we're alone, it's like there's this strange awkwardness and I am not sure what it is. We have a ton of things in common, so you'd think that it would be easy to communicate... as easy as talking about the things we're both interested in technology, computers, whatever. But it wasn't until today that I realized what element was completely missing from our little ... "friendship."
So we're sitting there, and he starts talking to me about "work" stuff... and is asking me questions and for the first time ... EVER, I didn't want to answer him. Actually, I didn't want to talk about work at all. Work was the last thing I wanted to think about let alone talk about. I wanted to talk to him about life, ask him questions about what his plans were for Father's day, whatever--anything--but all I could do was choke out some lame reply back to him and then we sat there in silence. When I leave work, I try to literally leave it at work. So when I'm home, or when I'm in a social situation, it's strange to then talk about work again. Yeah, it's fun to relive stuff and reminisce on funny stories, but at that exact moment, I drew a complete blank. I'm sure I sounded like a dumbass. Why didn't I introduce myself to his girlfriend and ask her questions about her?
Anyways, so I've spent weeks (months actually) trying to be friendly to this person because I don't want to feel awkward when we meet one another. I don't know why it feels that way. I get the feeling that I'm the last person he wants to talk to and yet ... we have so much in common it doesn't make sense. I put myself on a one person mission to befriend him and convince him that I wasn't too scary to talk to ... I was hoping that strangeness that seems to prevent us from having a normal comfortable conversation would just melt away and the barrier would be broken.
But I figured out today that ... despite all of this time I have been trying to befriend him, it hasn't worked. He's kept me at a clear distance and perhaps I should chalk it up to the fact that maybe he just doesn't like me. But what does it hurt to be personable?
That's when I figured it out! I share personal details with him (I'm moving, I'm doing this, I feel that--blah blah blah) in the hopes that he would open up and give me SOMETHING I could talk to him about. Something I could relate to and could ask him about. There's only so much work stuff you can talk about and beyond that, it comes down to what makes up who you are. At least his partner will tell me things about his family, his friends, projects he's doing, etc. and it gives me something to ask him about later, "How are you projects going?" "How's baseball?" "How are the kids?"
But if I don't know anything personal about the other person, I am only able to have a superficial and therefore superficial relationship with that person. So in the end, it's no wonder that we stare at each other when we're alone. He won't let me in, for whatever reason. What's strange is, I have worked with him for ... almost a year now and he knows plenty of things about me. I would hope that in knowing things about me, he would understand me better, and therefore wouldn't be hesitant to talk to me or ask me things. But in the end, there's this strangeness there and it still isn't going away ...
I guess this is one of those situations where I'm not going to win. I'm going to walk away from this one and throw in the towel and admit defeat. I feel like I really tried; then again, I wish I wasn't so shy in large groups. Perhaps I could have gotten to know his girlfriend a little bit and so then I could have at least asked him about her and how she's doing.
So anyways, the whole situation is a puzzle to me. I'm not sure I should blame myself and my lack of social etiquette today or just realize that it's clear he doesn't want anything to do with me and leave it alone ...
But that's the funny thing too-we seem to communicate through e-mail just fine. But I still never learn anything new about him. It's like he just answers my questions and that's it. Nothing personal, nothing real. Nothing real. Interesting... Anyways, so it's all a mystery.
I feel bad because I am finding myself starting to purposely avoid him or actually slightly relieved when he doesn't come along to certain events. But at the same time, I am bummed when he's not there. Since we do have so much in common, there's so much stuff I want to talk to him about. But I'm just not sure how to bring it up, if that makes any sense.
Well, I guess it doesn't matter. It's just strange and I've never encountered a situation like this before. What do you think? Am I doing something wrong?
This was one of those embarassing days where I want to run and hide in my cave and not come out for a really long time.
It was a friend's birthday last week, and today was his birthday party. I was a little nervous going to this since I probably would be one of the only single people there and always have a difficult time talking to strangers. It used to be so simple when I was with S or J. S would go with me and mope about until we left (he hated parties and groups of people) and J would make up some reason not to go. So it was always easier for me to make excuses for coming by myself. "S wasn't feeling well." or "J couldn't make it." Both of those sound better than showing up alone especially when children of all ages are clinging to their parents and they are all exchanging funny tidbits about their children while I can only smile and nod at what they are saying.
My friend Denise ended up rescuing me, and doing a fantastic job of it. Her quick wit and easy-going personality is always a welcome addition to what might have otherwise been a disaster for me going alone. Of course we were met with the usual "couple" jokes, but in the end, it proved better than me showing up by myself.
But here's where I got stupid. First of all, I'd been packing all morning, then ran to Ikea (a cool place to get home decorating ideas) and my wardrobe is lacking at the moment because practically all of my clothes are packed tightly into boxes stacked in the living room.
Anyways, I didn't really have anything decent to wear, didn't really have a chance to put makeup on or look cute, and my hair--well let's just say that it looked like I walked through a wind tunnel. That's what happens to curly hair when you try to straighten it without an actual straightener. Trust me on this.
So I'm sitting across the table from a co-worker whom I actually respect and think is cool, and he brought his girlfriend. She seemed as shy as he was and didn't even seem to acknowledge my existence. Of course she didn't introduce herself so I guess I shouldn't feel too terribly bad (but I do) because I didn't even say a word to her ...
Okay, so a little history here ... normally speaking, this guy and I work together. He's a great, intelligent, nice guy. But the thing is, it seems as though we can barely come up with two words to say to one another and I can't figure out why! When we're in a group, it doesn't seem to be a problem. But when we're alone, it's like there's this strange awkwardness and I am not sure what it is. We have a ton of things in common, so you'd think that it would be easy to communicate... as easy as talking about the things we're both interested in technology, computers, whatever. But it wasn't until today that I realized what element was completely missing from our little ... "friendship."
So we're sitting there, and he starts talking to me about "work" stuff... and is asking me questions and for the first time ... EVER, I didn't want to answer him. Actually, I didn't want to talk about work at all. Work was the last thing I wanted to think about let alone talk about. I wanted to talk to him about life, ask him questions about what his plans were for Father's day, whatever--anything--but all I could do was choke out some lame reply back to him and then we sat there in silence. When I leave work, I try to literally leave it at work. So when I'm home, or when I'm in a social situation, it's strange to then talk about work again. Yeah, it's fun to relive stuff and reminisce on funny stories, but at that exact moment, I drew a complete blank. I'm sure I sounded like a dumbass. Why didn't I introduce myself to his girlfriend and ask her questions about her?
Anyways, so I've spent weeks (months actually) trying to be friendly to this person because I don't want to feel awkward when we meet one another. I don't know why it feels that way. I get the feeling that I'm the last person he wants to talk to and yet ... we have so much in common it doesn't make sense. I put myself on a one person mission to befriend him and convince him that I wasn't too scary to talk to ... I was hoping that strangeness that seems to prevent us from having a normal comfortable conversation would just melt away and the barrier would be broken.
But I figured out today that ... despite all of this time I have been trying to befriend him, it hasn't worked. He's kept me at a clear distance and perhaps I should chalk it up to the fact that maybe he just doesn't like me. But what does it hurt to be personable?
That's when I figured it out! I share personal details with him (I'm moving, I'm doing this, I feel that--blah blah blah) in the hopes that he would open up and give me SOMETHING I could talk to him about. Something I could relate to and could ask him about. There's only so much work stuff you can talk about and beyond that, it comes down to what makes up who you are. At least his partner will tell me things about his family, his friends, projects he's doing, etc. and it gives me something to ask him about later, "How are you projects going?" "How's baseball?" "How are the kids?"
But if I don't know anything personal about the other person, I am only able to have a superficial and therefore superficial relationship with that person. So in the end, it's no wonder that we stare at each other when we're alone. He won't let me in, for whatever reason. What's strange is, I have worked with him for ... almost a year now and he knows plenty of things about me. I would hope that in knowing things about me, he would understand me better, and therefore wouldn't be hesitant to talk to me or ask me things. But in the end, there's this strangeness there and it still isn't going away ...
I guess this is one of those situations where I'm not going to win. I'm going to walk away from this one and throw in the towel and admit defeat. I feel like I really tried; then again, I wish I wasn't so shy in large groups. Perhaps I could have gotten to know his girlfriend a little bit and so then I could have at least asked him about her and how she's doing.
So anyways, the whole situation is a puzzle to me. I'm not sure I should blame myself and my lack of social etiquette today or just realize that it's clear he doesn't want anything to do with me and leave it alone ...
But that's the funny thing too-we seem to communicate through e-mail just fine. But I still never learn anything new about him. It's like he just answers my questions and that's it. Nothing personal, nothing real. Nothing real. Interesting... Anyways, so it's all a mystery.
I feel bad because I am finding myself starting to purposely avoid him or actually slightly relieved when he doesn't come along to certain events. But at the same time, I am bummed when he's not there. Since we do have so much in common, there's so much stuff I want to talk to him about. But I'm just not sure how to bring it up, if that makes any sense.
Well, I guess it doesn't matter. It's just strange and I've never encountered a situation like this before. What do you think? Am I doing something wrong?
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Thoughts
Packing things when it's time to move always presents several challenges. For those of you blessed to have only moved a couple of times, you're lucky. For me, I have always felt as though I have always been at the mercy of the winds-always waiting for another to tell me where and when to go.
Anyways, as I was packing up my things, I was forced to go through all the old things that I stowed away-some needlessly, and some with good reason. Among other things, I found a letter I had written to J. It was a letter I never had the courage to give him, words that have been left unspoken for years, merely thoughts on paper. I should have just put it back in the box I got it and turned away. Or perhaps I shouldn't keep these things that haunt me and should throw them away altogether, but something prevents me from doing so.
When the other boxes were packed, I picked up those pages I had set aside and began to read it. It was a beautiful letter, and memories of our time together flooded back into my heart, memories I have long since wanted to forget.
It's a funny thing-I always tell people not to live in the past; it's not healthy for you. If you're always thinking about the past, you'll never live in the present, never look forward to the future. Yet there's something about everything that happened that I just can't seem to let go.
I think I know what it is, and I am hoping that talking about it will allow me to make sense of it all, to gather the courage to move forward and pray that true love is again possible.
Although I've spoken about this before, I want to give you a little picture of something. Have you ever truly loved someone? Truly? It's a feeling that poems and sonnets and cheesy songs and the romantic movie empire have all attempted to capture. Love is like the adrenaline rush after finishing first in a race or climbing the tallest mountain in the world. Actually, it makes you feel as though you could do anything-even climb that impossible mountain. You'd do it too; you'd brave every single step even if it meant loss of life and limb just to hold that person in your arms one more time or be held, or feel the gentle brush of their lips as they meet yours. That's love.
I cannot even do it justice, or try to describe what so many who have come before me have done ever so gracefully. All I can say is that, for a brief moment in time, it truly was like a dream. It was like everything I always imagined love can be. Nothing before and nothing since has even managed to touch it even for a moment.
As I go out on dates these days, and listen to the guys drone on and on about themselves, I want to laugh because all I can think about is the guy who asked me how I felt, what I liked, who I was.
I can still remember the soft touch of his hand as he touched my shoulder to ask me something. When I touch someone else on the shoulder, with not even so half a similar feeling or meaning, the guy shrinks away, or leans in closer because he thinks it means I want to sleep with him. It has no longer become a gesture of acceptance and notice.
People confuse my open, genuine nature with desperation. But I wouldn't settle for them; they wouldn't even come close to the love I've known especially as they criticize me or cut me off mid-sentence to talk about themselves some more.
Reading that letter today, I was reminded of the person he was, and
the person I was when I was with him. When things were good, they were really good. People who know him don't understand, but always remarked on our closeness, even after we were no longer together.
There was just something there and always will be.
I sit and ponder these things these days because I am only left with those lingering feelings of the past inside my heart. I am torn between letting those feelings go and keeping them safe in my heart, where no one will ever be able to touch them.
The only problem is, I can't seem to find anyone who touches my heart in the same place or even come close. I don't want to have to compare; I want the guy to blow my idea of something great out of the water, but it never happens. I guess in writing this, every guy who likes me and has access to this blog may be discouraged (and I realize this) … but the truth is, we should all want a love that is going to last. We should all want that bond that holds us together. We should all strive to love someone the way J and I did, even if it was just for a moment.
When I hear of people in real life (every day!) who are with people they don't love, or people they've settled for, or people they're unhappy with, I get really upset. I get upset because I know what real love is and I know that every person who's with the wrong person, is just making it more difficult for someone like me to find the right person.
Maybe my person is in a dead-end relationship and won't admit it to themselves. Perhaps they don't have the courage to get out of it or perhaps they won't ever have the courage to give me a try. Perhaps my person lives in another country or perhaps is married to the wrong person, constantly convincing themselves to give it "another try." Perhaps he has just been burned one too many times and is unwilling to take a chance … but perhaps when the time is right, he'll give me a chance to change his world forever.
I also want to admit something I've never told anyone before. People often ask me what initially attracted me to J. He's got an ego the size of NYC and though he is universally handsome, he continues to hold himself as his 1 priority. Well, the truth is, we had so much in common … he would read what I was thinking without me having to say anything. It's such a rare thing when you are truly understood. It was almost as if he'd finish my sentences for me because he knew what I was going to say. Even more importantly, he'd remember little things that I'd say months later. Even S, whom I lived with, didn't seem to remember the things I said or even what was important to me. But somehow, J did.
The thing I was going to admit is that … I remember him talking about his last girlfriend whom I actually knew pretty well. She was high maintenance and came from money, if you know what I mean. Our worlds couldn't have been more different. When he talked about their relationship, or talked about the things he wanted out of life, he had the saddest look of wistful longing on his face. Just as he'd understood me, I understood him. I understood that look. I could see the sadness in his eyes, even when he didn't say anything; he didn't need to. I always thought, in the back of my mind, that I wished for just a moment he would notice me (this was before we got together of course) because I wished that I could show him what he was missing out on in a relationship.
Of course, I ended up getting to do that, since we later got together. I was convinced that I could change J's life … and I think I did. Just as he changed mine…
Honestly, I'm glad that J and I didn't work out. I didn't really know who he was before I fell in love with him. Of course I probably wouldn't have fallen in love with him had I known. But it was a great experience because I learned so much from him. I feel as though we had our moment, and we taught each other the things we needed to. I taught him how to love another person, and opened the way for his new life now. He taught me how to appreciate myself and what to look for in another person, and to wait, even if it takes a lifetime, to find it again.
Ultimately, I don't know where my person is. I want to believe that he's out there, and his heart will be as loving as a deep and endless ocean. He'll wrap his arms around me, and on those moments when I am unsure what direction to go next or what decision to make, he'll pull me closer and tell me, "everything is going to be all right."
Anyways, as I was packing up my things, I was forced to go through all the old things that I stowed away-some needlessly, and some with good reason. Among other things, I found a letter I had written to J. It was a letter I never had the courage to give him, words that have been left unspoken for years, merely thoughts on paper. I should have just put it back in the box I got it and turned away. Or perhaps I shouldn't keep these things that haunt me and should throw them away altogether, but something prevents me from doing so.
When the other boxes were packed, I picked up those pages I had set aside and began to read it. It was a beautiful letter, and memories of our time together flooded back into my heart, memories I have long since wanted to forget.
It's a funny thing-I always tell people not to live in the past; it's not healthy for you. If you're always thinking about the past, you'll never live in the present, never look forward to the future. Yet there's something about everything that happened that I just can't seem to let go.
I think I know what it is, and I am hoping that talking about it will allow me to make sense of it all, to gather the courage to move forward and pray that true love is again possible.
Although I've spoken about this before, I want to give you a little picture of something. Have you ever truly loved someone? Truly? It's a feeling that poems and sonnets and cheesy songs and the romantic movie empire have all attempted to capture. Love is like the adrenaline rush after finishing first in a race or climbing the tallest mountain in the world. Actually, it makes you feel as though you could do anything-even climb that impossible mountain. You'd do it too; you'd brave every single step even if it meant loss of life and limb just to hold that person in your arms one more time or be held, or feel the gentle brush of their lips as they meet yours. That's love.
I cannot even do it justice, or try to describe what so many who have come before me have done ever so gracefully. All I can say is that, for a brief moment in time, it truly was like a dream. It was like everything I always imagined love can be. Nothing before and nothing since has even managed to touch it even for a moment.
As I go out on dates these days, and listen to the guys drone on and on about themselves, I want to laugh because all I can think about is the guy who asked me how I felt, what I liked, who I was.
I can still remember the soft touch of his hand as he touched my shoulder to ask me something. When I touch someone else on the shoulder, with not even so half a similar feeling or meaning, the guy shrinks away, or leans in closer because he thinks it means I want to sleep with him. It has no longer become a gesture of acceptance and notice.
People confuse my open, genuine nature with desperation. But I wouldn't settle for them; they wouldn't even come close to the love I've known especially as they criticize me or cut me off mid-sentence to talk about themselves some more.
Reading that letter today, I was reminded of the person he was, and
the person I was when I was with him. When things were good, they were really good. People who know him don't understand, but always remarked on our closeness, even after we were no longer together.
There was just something there and always will be.
I sit and ponder these things these days because I am only left with those lingering feelings of the past inside my heart. I am torn between letting those feelings go and keeping them safe in my heart, where no one will ever be able to touch them.
The only problem is, I can't seem to find anyone who touches my heart in the same place or even come close. I don't want to have to compare; I want the guy to blow my idea of something great out of the water, but it never happens. I guess in writing this, every guy who likes me and has access to this blog may be discouraged (and I realize this) … but the truth is, we should all want a love that is going to last. We should all want that bond that holds us together. We should all strive to love someone the way J and I did, even if it was just for a moment.
When I hear of people in real life (every day!) who are with people they don't love, or people they've settled for, or people they're unhappy with, I get really upset. I get upset because I know what real love is and I know that every person who's with the wrong person, is just making it more difficult for someone like me to find the right person.
Maybe my person is in a dead-end relationship and won't admit it to themselves. Perhaps they don't have the courage to get out of it or perhaps they won't ever have the courage to give me a try. Perhaps my person lives in another country or perhaps is married to the wrong person, constantly convincing themselves to give it "another try." Perhaps he has just been burned one too many times and is unwilling to take a chance … but perhaps when the time is right, he'll give me a chance to change his world forever.
I also want to admit something I've never told anyone before. People often ask me what initially attracted me to J. He's got an ego the size of NYC and though he is universally handsome, he continues to hold himself as his 1 priority. Well, the truth is, we had so much in common … he would read what I was thinking without me having to say anything. It's such a rare thing when you are truly understood. It was almost as if he'd finish my sentences for me because he knew what I was going to say. Even more importantly, he'd remember little things that I'd say months later. Even S, whom I lived with, didn't seem to remember the things I said or even what was important to me. But somehow, J did.
The thing I was going to admit is that … I remember him talking about his last girlfriend whom I actually knew pretty well. She was high maintenance and came from money, if you know what I mean. Our worlds couldn't have been more different. When he talked about their relationship, or talked about the things he wanted out of life, he had the saddest look of wistful longing on his face. Just as he'd understood me, I understood him. I understood that look. I could see the sadness in his eyes, even when he didn't say anything; he didn't need to. I always thought, in the back of my mind, that I wished for just a moment he would notice me (this was before we got together of course) because I wished that I could show him what he was missing out on in a relationship.
Of course, I ended up getting to do that, since we later got together. I was convinced that I could change J's life … and I think I did. Just as he changed mine…
Honestly, I'm glad that J and I didn't work out. I didn't really know who he was before I fell in love with him. Of course I probably wouldn't have fallen in love with him had I known. But it was a great experience because I learned so much from him. I feel as though we had our moment, and we taught each other the things we needed to. I taught him how to love another person, and opened the way for his new life now. He taught me how to appreciate myself and what to look for in another person, and to wait, even if it takes a lifetime, to find it again.
Ultimately, I don't know where my person is. I want to believe that he's out there, and his heart will be as loving as a deep and endless ocean. He'll wrap his arms around me, and on those moments when I am unsure what direction to go next or what decision to make, he'll pull me closer and tell me, "everything is going to be all right."
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