Love & All Things That Hurt

Have you ever had open heart surgery without anestetia? Maybe not. Have you ever had to systematically force yourself to fall out of love without someone that you thought was the answer to all of your lonely questions? Same difference.

I don't pretend to be an authority on love and feelings. I am quite far from it...beginning my day with positive affirmations and productivity and ending my day with wine and existential thoughts that keep me from knowing if I've made any hedge way in the quest to be more than I am.

Love. That's a recurring theme in the life of a Homosapien. I have recently embarked on my fifth trip around the "love sun." Do you want to know a secret? I'm a wounded warrior. But, I haven't lost my valor. Why? Because I will never stop believing that I can have it all - or at least my version of it...that being happiness and love. Two of which notions never go hand-in-hand for me.

Let's take a trip down memory lane, shall we? I married my first love. We were high school sweethearts. It was everything teenage love is supposed to be - one big mistake after another until one of you screams, "I quit!!!!" He cheated on me so many times; I don't even know how there's a picture of me smiling in any of the images captured during our eight years together. But, you know, they say, "Even a rigged game is fun to play." My second time in love was nothing but two words, RE-BOUND. He was the exact opposite of my ex-husband, and I fell in love faster than a boulder out of a plane. I fell out of love just as quickly, too. He was eccentric, and that's me being nice.

Third time...it was unrequited love, indeed. He loved me far more than I loved him. I tried to catch harder feelings, but I couldn't because something in me needed more in common. That spark of a thread that would weave us together. All we had in common was that we liked to talk about aliens. But, unfortunately, there aren't enough "Area 51's" to keep the fire stoked.

Fourth time (I'm skipping some folks for the simple reason that I'm pretty sure I dated them because they adored me, and the attention and doting was too intoxicating to refuse - nonetheless, we never said the actual word "love") threw me for a total doozy. I did fall in love this time. But, he was a "serial-lover killer." What does that mean, you ask? Well, that simply means that he forces his anecdotes onto women until they have no choice but to give them the key to their heart. Then one random day, while doing his rounds of sweet nothings - he does or says something so foul - you die inside. You literally have to have a funeral service for your hopes and dreams. All you thought was wonderful and timely gets lowered into the ground and the dirt compacted on top with a shovel. He was the worst. Why? Because he would relay opposing love declarations like, "I would never do anything to lose you." Or, here's a good one, "I belong to you." No, sir, you belong to the entire theme park, and everyone gets a ride.

So, here I am. Present-day. My hopeful arm is in a cast. My dreams are limping. My wishful thinking has a busted lip, and my belief in love is a bleeding wound on my head with a badge around it. But, I am happy to report that I have met someone that made me forget that I ever experienced pain in the name of love - or whatever that was. We have everything in common, especially the bad - which is the best bit. I hate having only good things in common. Who cares if you like the same ice cream if you don't relate on the things that make your stomach turn? He's an open book, and so am I.

I think that life serves you, dysfunctional partners, to help you understand what's wrong with you. The agony from their ill-treatment forces you to look within and attempt to discover what it is inside you that would even date a person that rips your self-esteem apart. What made me do such things? What caused me to contract my devotion with someone that put my heart in a Ninja blender? Well, this is me being totally candid with you. For many years, I didn't think I was worthy of real love. My father was the strong and silent type, and my brothers were better at picking on me than showing any type of familial affection. I truly thought the best I could get was someone who wrapped their love in verbal abuse and neglect. But I knew I had to be wrong. Because I don't love that way. I love my children with all of my heart. When I am in relationships, I give my all.

It took me some time. But I did the work it took inside of myself to accept the truth that I am worthy of having it all...which will always be to me, happiness and love. So, I am quite optimistic about my new venture in love's orbit. Every day I wake up happier than the day before. That's why I love, love. Because even though it sometimes hurts....when it doesn't, your wounds heal expeditiously, and you see the world through rose-colored glasses.