"Every act of love should be cause for joy in
every person who is aware of it.
To be angered by the fact of love
is to be afraid of life. "
This will hopefully be the first post in a string of posts. I have some recipes I'd like to post (as I have recently realized that I'm exceptionally good at gourmet, vegan, junk-food. I mean seriously, you haven't had a quesadilla until you've had one of my vegan quesadillas). It will be random thoughts that I want to put out into the world (like bellow). There may be some "writing", and with any luck there will be other artistic endeavors. Either way, this is my little "outside of grad school contribution to the world". If you enjoy my dribble, fantastic! If you don't, no hard feelings.
I've been thinking a lot on the subject of heart break. Mostly, because I am currently heart broken. I wasn't actually aware that I could cry as much as I have recently. It's not just the crying, though. It's the pain. It's the type of pain that convinces me that, even if it ends, I might not be a whole person once it's gone. It's so much pain that I am confused as to who I am at all these days. It's shattering pain.
All of my friends have been telling me that "he's not worth it." They tell me how wonderful I am, and how lousy he is. Which is funny, because I think it's the very same friends that were telling me that he's worth fighting for when I was talking about giving up before we broke up. They tell me that I'm better than "this". Stronger than "this". Stronger than him. Because that's what friends are for. To tell you you're awesome when you feel like shit. But really, that kind of talk just made me feel ashamed and weak.
Putting value on him or our relationship is a futile process anyway. If he is not worth it, if our relationship is not worth it, am I worth it? I could rationalize and come up with reasons about why I am so much better and stronger, but at the end of the day, lying in bed alone, all of that pompousness and pretension falls apart. If I am going to think like that I might as well hand the keys of my mind over to disappointment and bitterness. Thinking like that is a road to nowhere good.
What I failed to realize in my struggle to be "better" and "stronger," is that the real strength isn't in not feeling. It's in owning the pain. It's in saying "Yeah, I'm hurting. I love him, and I'm grieving because I have lost something dear to me, and I feel weak right now" and being truly okay with it. My strength is not in being super-human, it's in being hyper-human. It's in being okay with being curled up sobbing, because it is a lot harder to accept who you are being, than it is who you are trying to be. I can cry in the shower this morning and every other morning, but I am alive. I am contributing. I am growing in the face of sadness. I am carrying on, even though I am wounded. My strength is not in denying my pain and suffering - and it is certainly not in feeling above it - it is in allowing it to change me. Allowing this process to be transformative.
Love - love in what I believe is it's purest form - is about letting go of ones preconceived notions of self and letting in another human being. Denying that just because you lost it, is denying what that love was in the first place. And it was beautiful. Really beautiful.
My strength? It's in being grateful even with the misery. It's about letting go and nurturing the pain so that one day it can become something different. Otherwise, you're just allowing it to live inside of you forever, not giving it permission to be and to change. Not giving yourself permission to be and to change.
Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go have a good cry and then fall asleep smiling.