Well what the hell is wrong with me? One little foray, one little incursion into love’s territory and I can’t even recognize myself. I look pathetic and God knows I feel even worse. “Snap out of it!” I want to yell as the shell of my former self stares blankly back at me in the mirror.
Of course I am exaggerating, dear Readers, but just. It has been difficult navigating through this minefield that is Love. How odd, that at my age I am just now discovering the delicate balance that holds my heart in place. And certainly my brain has checked out throughout this process. My thoughts, my feelings, they seem to have no logic, no rationale. I am an otherwise intelligent woman. So why is it that I am unable to reason with my feelings? Love should have a sign over its door that reads, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” or something equally pithy.
For the past 16 years or so, I have gotten along just fine without so much as a tiny, little crack in my heart. I have taken care to protect what I know to be most precious. And it is not as if I have a broken heart, but rather my heart is not whole. To love someone who is miles and miles away is to live with only half a heart. I suppose there is solace in the fact that at least my heart is not shattered into a million, tiny pieces. Yes, there is that.
“I’m fine. I’m ok. No, really, I’m fine AND I’m ok.” Because what else is there to say? I certainly do not want to make him feel any worse and nothing I say is going to make him feel any better. But for the record, this sucks! This is really difficult. Oh, I will survive this, this, this separation period, if you will. I am certainly made of much sterner stuff than that. I have certainly not been through the ravages of hell throughout my life to wimp out now. No, I am a survivor and with that comes a certain knowledge that although my heart is dodging bullets right now, I will survive. I have to, it is who I am.
However, is it ok sometimes to not be fine, to not be ok? I don’t mean that I want to curl up in a ball on my bed and cry until I fall into an exhaustive sleep. I just want to be able to take the load off of my heart for a little while and give it a rest. Unfortunately, the only way I have ever been able to do that is through the time-honored tradition of a good, old fashioned cry. And how’s that been working for you, Vickie? Well, quite frankly, it hasn’t. Well then, suck it up! You are not the first and you certainly won’t be the last lovesick patron who has had to reach across the miles to tether your heart’s balance. Put your big girl pants on and just deal with it. Acknowledge that you are hurting right now, take a deep breath, and move forward, never straight, but always gaily forward. See if that doesn’t keep your demons at bay.
Oddly enough, I have discovered that I am most secure when I am being the most vulnerable. Putting the fodder that is my life in print for all to see is both terrifying and exhilarating. Knowing that people will read my deepest, most sacred, most precious thoughts leaves me terrified. How could I possibly want to put myself in such a vulnerable position? What was I thinking? Me, me who has struggled all of her life to fit it. Now I am laying myself bare for all the world to see (well, really it’s only about 20, 30 people at best that read my blog). However, it is in my vulnerability that I feel the most invigorated. I am putting myself out there, I am trying to connect with people through the medium which bests suits me, writing. And quite frankly, it makes me feel better, a heck of a lot better than crying ever did.
So there you have it, dear Readers, we have solved my dilemma. My heart may not be whole, but at least it is not broken. I can live with that. I guess I really am fine, I really am ok.