Moving forward, or standing still.

Maybe she had always wanted it, yet had been unable to detect the yearning she felt for it.

As she looked back on all those years that seemed lost, she wondered where she had chosen the wrong side of the road. Had her decision to close herself off, to the world, been a direct result of her failed marriage, or was there more to it than that? The same memory would rise, over and over again.

She was four years old, busy playing, and hiding, under the stairs; the place she went to find herself, the safety blanket that held her together and allowed her to feel yet be numb at the same time. Other kids didn’t want to play with her, and when they did, they were mean to her.

This wasn’t the world she wanted to live in but speaking up meant losing everything so she made herself smaller and learned, little by little, to lose her voice and to prioritize what others wanted. Craving ease and comfort, she would retract under the stairs where she had created her own little world with the dolls, their beds, the kitchenette set, even the multicoloured xylophone… they were all a source of joy, yet held so much sadness.

Maybe the amount of time she spent in solitude, with them, was a constant reminder of everything she wanted but didn’t have… because she didn’t know how to ask or because she felt underserving of it all.

One thing was certain: every time she was was brutally honest with others, it ended badly; you could see how hurt people were by the look in their eyes, and the way they would simply stare off in the distance betrayed how uncomfortable they were with the truth of it all… too scared to admit she was right or to show allegiance.

Why couldn’t they see these things and why was it always up to her to point them out?

All of it felt heavy, and even though she craved for attention, she was scared to be punished, if she asked for it. Sure, when everyone felt happy, it was an easy ask. Unfortunately, the environment in her house was, most of the time, one of depression and despair which meant that adults who were supposed to show how were drowning in their imaginary universe, filled with doubt and sorrow and forgetting that littles ones around them craved direction.

Living in a constant loop of survival, how could she recognize the signs that love emits, especially when there was always consequences to being shown affection?

Why was the unconditional love emanating from her little heart met with such apathy and cold-heartedness?

As she sat there, under the stairs, history repeating itself over and over again, closing her heart seemed like the best bet. Yes, she could have kept the curtain open but closing it felt much safer… others would have to ask for permission before intruding her space, perhaps giving them a chance to see how hurt she was and how badly she felt torn to pieces, by the lack of pure & loving attentions.

Looking back, she now realizes that her biggest wound, the one that’s kept her closed off all these years, is her uncertainty of what love is all about… her inability to intuitively know, and surrender.

Love was a foreign concept to her: what does it mean to love someone unconditionally?

- Letting them walk all over you, or setting clear boundaries?

- Wanting to spend all your time with them, or longing for your own space while sometimes being in communion energetically and physically?

- Forgetting your own needs and wants to prioritize others, or receiving as much as you gave?

What did one do, or feel, to be worthy of love?

And, would she ever find out or be able to feel all of it, deep deep down in the crevasses of her heart, perhaps even hearing the faintest of whisper that said “this is it… this is what love feels like”. Or, would her mind be forever stuck in the loop of uncertainty, fear and doubt about intentions.

When love was given, was it always in the hands of the beholder or did the giving party hold power, like a puppet master holding the strings? Did she have to do something special to receive & hold it? And if she gave in, what was expected of her?

In the innocence of her young adult years, she tried her hand at it but even that had turned out to be a failure.

Finding herself at another cross in the road, she now realizes that she has two choices: run away and hide, like she’s done all of her life - even during her failed marriage OR open up her heart and stay rooted in the belief that love is possible. And that maybe, the beauty of it all is surrendering to not knowing how it will turn out but to enjoy each moment for what they are: an agreement between two humans, to evolve, together, in this world that so often feels cold and heartless.

Even when neither of them have the slightest of clue.