This post is written to a certain someone - you know who you are. If this is not you, sorry - please hang in there.
I admit to being "in love" many times. But understanding the nature of love and being capable of experiencing (receiving and giving) real, mountain-moving love, has taken many years to glimpse just the edge of. I mean this toward all kinds of persons - from family that I've loved instantly and selfishly, to the Divine, to friends, to romantic relationships.
The first time I liked a boy, my friend and I rode our bikes past his house more than a dozen times a day just to see if he was home. We sang duets as we rode down his street. Cause we were just that dorky. And we wanted to show off our skills. Then, we would lay around in one of our bedrooms and listen to "I Swear" (the country version) and wish desperately that the phone would ring. This boy was never my boyfriend, but we did dance together at a middle school dance and I thought I was going to POOP MYSELF, it was so exciting. And then we kind of never talked again and I thought I might die it was so excruciatingly sad.
The first time a boy liked me - I am certain I was too young for such a thing. We raced each other at Wednesday night church events - again, I was intent upon showing my skills (fast running and smooth corner turning), but I didn't really care about the boy. He called my house one night and my dad (gasp) answered the phone and HUNG UP ON HIM after saying something, like, "No - she is too young to talk on the phone!"
I had a *big crush* in high school on this star basketball player. But he had a very steady girlfriend. One summer they broke up and he started inviting me to watch movies at his house. And then he kissed me. And then, like the next day, he got back together with his ex. Dickhole. And I thought I might die.
This kid that lived down the street from us had a *big crush* on me in high school. He was a country singer and drove a big truck and had a wiener dog named Norman. He went to church all day on Sunday. He was a little too intense for me.
During my last year of high school, I started hanging out with this guy who was much older than me. He worked at a coffee shop and wrote poetry and was all angst-ridden. Lots of girls wanted to be his girlfriend. And we were kind of a thing. And I really, really liked him. He smoked cigars and sang in a band and being with him was very dramatic and angst-ridden, and when I thought he was getting bored of me, or when he didn't return my phone calls, I spent lots of nights sobbing in my bedroom. But I was going to college and he was going - no where. So I left and it wasn't that bad, actually. I had lots of college-ing to do. But somewhere between us "hanging out" and me being at school for a few weeks - he decided he actually loved me, or something. And there was this awful, dramatic, back and forth thing for weeks until it was finally just over. And again, I thought I might die because I was just so sad.
And then I dated this college guy who did weird things like played video games all day long and attended class in his pajamas, and danced like a monkey on crack at parties. We broke up in a Toys'R'Us parking lot because I was in love with his best friend. And, plus, it was more like some weird freak show to see the two of us dating - it was mostly for the amusement of everyone around us, not because we actually had a thing for each other.
And then I started dating his best friend. And I knew - immediately - that he was it for me. But things were hard for us, and eventually, we broke up too, lots of times, actually. And it was very, very difficult. When we broke up the last time - I moved across the state. We would talk on the phone every once in a while and it was so gut-wrenching, I could feel my heart breaking apart. I spent hours crying in the garage because I thought no one could hear me there. And one night, my mom found my crying in bed. I remember talking to her for a long time, but all I can remember saying was, "I didn't think it would hurt this much."
But then I realized that my life - who I was - was not about him. And my life could not stop because of him. And so I moved on. Slowly at first...with lots of backsliding and moping around. But then, one day, I realized that it didn't hurt as much. And it kept hurting a little less and a little less. And you know what? Amazing things happened in my life. I had alot of interesting experiences - I learned alot about who I was - I made changes that were important. I made decisions for me, not for anyone else. I grew up. I dated other people.
And then, I fell back in love with him. In our own way, in our own time, we found each other again. And it was lovely. And it was the right time.
My point is that this might be just the first of many painful disentanglements you will experience. And there is nothing in the world that can make it better except for time. And remembering that there is a whole world in front of you and every puzzle piece works its way into place in time. Maybe a long time. Don't let your experiences disempower you. Let them make you stronger, more interesting, more uniquely you. When it's time to write the end of the chapter - don't be afraid to do it. Because another chapter is just around the corner.
And - I am sorry about your spider bite.
You are in my heart.
*image from here
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