Love Is Suicide

by Jana Adaire about a year ago in love

(The Good Kind)

Love Is Suicide

“Love is suicide" are lyrics from the band Smashing Pumpkins that my teenage self used to sing to. Being in my early thirties now, looking back on years and years of horrible life choices and even more questionable relationships, I often hear these lyrics in my head, stabbing my brain as if they were saying “told you so.”

Love is a funny thing. I often wonder what my ancestors thought about love. What is it like being cared for, being adored, being loved, and to love in return? Being asked out on a date to my face instead of in a text or over Facebook? I can’t even remember the last letter a lover wrote me. In this generation of instant gratification we have lost the ability to slow down. We post our every thought or a million photos of our kids on social media. Spreading our big fat peacock feathers as a bluff that deep down we are lonely. Maybe even miserable. Okay, maybe not everyone. “Sharing is caring” does not apply in the same context when what we want is our ego stroked.

So, back to this love thing. I have been doing it all wrong all these years. I felt like love was putting up with abuse: cheaters, liars, manipulating, women haters, assault, rape, users… because I couldn’t be alone. It could work if I try harder! It could work if I change this! So here I am, attracting dog shit over and over wrapped up in different paper bags. Some were on fire, some were harder, some were softer, but they were all still paper bags of dog shit. Sure, a paper bag can hide what is enclosed. Eventually the insides are shown. I always looked inside, saw the contents, and instead of throwing it away, I let it litter my heart. I began collecting all of these bags of shit like a hoarder who just could not move on because of trauma. It was its own anxiety. I was like them though—I could change my appearance. I could tan, lose weight, be seductive, laugh harder at their jokes. But when all that superficiality wears off—what is left?

I have been doing a lot of spiritual work in the past two years. I have really started meditating, reflecting, and digging really deep down trying to reach within and find what the hell I have been doing wrong. I believe in the law of attraction. I heard a woman explain it as “they meet you where they greet you.” To me, this means people in your life are a reflection of you. Cinderella got lucky meeting the prince, but he only was attracted to her appearance. He never saw her in rags chillin’ with no makeup on. Same goes for our spiritual appearance. You will attract spiritually disgusting people if you are a really ugly person inside also. A lot of people do not want to accept that about themselves. I am not here to write about that. We all learn when we are ready. I am rambling about all of this to say you have to do your work if you ever want to level up.

Attracting those types of people in my life is a reflection of myself. I can be selfish. I have cheated. I have lied. I have used people. Does that make me a shit bag? Yeah. If I don’t accept what I reflect, I cannot change. I refuse to stay in a victim mindset for another decade. There are no victims in progression.

“Love is suicide” to me means putting our ego aside for more than two seconds and serving others. Dying to self and truly living for the needs of others. I still have my moments when I want to sleep all day instead of being mom. People are entitled to have shitty days, just like good days, but I know my responsibility is to serve these tiny humans I am in charge of keeping alive. I can only hope they know I love them. When we serve others (without gain), we change our perception. We change our reflection. We love more, and in return, we love ourselves more.

That is what it’s all about.

love
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