It's never easy to pinpoint exactly when you've given your heart to someone. It seems as though a series of events coalese to form an attachment, or at the very least, a desire to perpetuate intimate interactions, be they of an emotional and/or physical nature. If one were to define love, undoubtedly a portion of that definition should be allocated to noting the fleeting nature of this feeling. Just as anger and joy fade with time, so too does love... chiefly, the amorous stage. Love can be determined by a mixture of somewhat oxymoronic sentiments coupled with actions that often defy reason. But when you're hit with it, you've never felt a worse sucker punch in your life... especially when those affections are left unrequited.
You've been waiting for it, so here it is... Time to get personal!
Many things can be said about me... especially in reference to my shortcomings. However, I feel much to my credit, that one thing I have done, still do, and hope never to abandon in the future, is my willingness to always give love a chance. For many who have endured the thorn-laden path that I have chosen to travel, it seems almost ludacris to believe that someone out there exists who has truly noble intentions... someone just as willing to be devoted to loving another person inspite of knowing that pain and possible ruin could be the end result. It is unwise to assume that someone who 'loves' you will not cause you agony... In fact, it can almost be expected to some extent. People are not infallable. Call me fatalistic as much as you like, but from my own personal experience, I feel that I'm more of a realist than anything else.
I wouldn't say that I go into relationships with the expectation for them to fail, but all too frequently, I wait with bated breath for the other shoe to drop. I've believed in false promises and made my own to others, so to me, it has become second nature to hope for the best, but expect the worst. In this sense, I suppose I have prematurely ended things with men that had potential for longevity (by consciously leaving or unconciously driving them away), heeding an innate need for self-preservation. Yet, relentlessly, I muster up whatever optimism remains in my soul to try again.
It isn't so much that I'm uncomfortable being alone, as it is just my preference to be involved with someone. I've been single for quite some time now, and I've enjoyed my new-found independence. However, I am one of those people who functions at maximum capacity when my love-life is squared away. Knowing that I have someone to come home to at night (figuratively speaking, as I'm in no way near preparedness for a more definitive form of commitment) tempers my moods and curbs what could be considered by some as 'loutish' behavior. It is my strong perogative to care for someone and to be cared for. Maybe this is a fervent femine will to monogamously nest, or I'm simply someone who finds solace in loving another person. Either way, I'm at the point in my life where I've begun to want to abandon (to an extent) my penchant for wild/raucous evenings, and the trysts that result from inebriation.
With less than a quarter of a year until my 23rd birthday, I can characterize my early 20s as a time of self-discovery, unfortunately marred by romantic tragedy. Academically and professionally, I've accomplished quite a number of accolades, but from a relationship stance, I've come to know little satisfaction. My last attempt at salvaging the sinking ship that was the 5 years spent with my ex left me a shadow of my former self. For me, it was all too long a stint of subjegation, humiliation, tyrrany, and delusion. I forced myself to put up with egregious offenses for a number of reasons... all while proclaiming that my 'love' for him would mend all error. That's the funny thing about love... Not only can it be used to mask shame and fear, but it can also turn you into a masochist over night. Had I not had my family there to support me, I'm not sure that I would have been able to leave him and the life I had planned on spending with him behind. So for those who care about me, I am grateful.Returning home, I looked forward to healing. And for the most part, I'm whole again. I'm still trying to re-discover who I am... possibly not through the healthiest means, as weekend binge drinking only seems to impede my personal growth, but I'm determined to tenaciously attack the question of "Who am I?".
Clearly, I did not come out of my long-term relationship unscathed. Though I might not be quick to talk about the intracacies of what went on in my past, I'm not afraid to show my scars, and above all, I wear them with pride. I survived possibly the most harm I could have ever done to myself. Now, I'm cognizant that I have a bit of a penchant for self-loathing. I try my best to not let that inclination inform my choice as to whom I date and I try to surround myself with people who bolster, and not denigrate, my self-esteem. I'm on the mend, and doing much better than I have been in a while. Although, I still make mistakes...
What remains the same about me is that like a moth to a flame, I still dive with reckless abandon into relationships. Try as I might to ride off into the sunset, I always end up getting burned. My impulsivity, admirable in it's own right, also remains my Achille's heal. At the drop of a hat, I throw caution to the wind. Where others keep their cards close to their chest, I make no bones about displaying my hand for all to see. Oh how lucky the vagabond lover... what a joy to wear your heart on your sleeve! As enviable as carlessly drifting from one man to another sounds, that is one temptation I cannot fall victim to... as much as I'd like it to be so. Yes, I've gotten involved with men having ignoble intent... Such is today's world for the single girl. Cavalier though I may appear, I do lament some of the poor decisions I've made with this regard. Yet, I'm not one to belabor moot points, so I've moved on and learned my lesson. Using men hasn't helped me find myself. Therefore, that chapter of my life is closed.
From recent experience I've gained quite a bit of insight into the new 'me'. For starters, I'm as resiliant as a cockroach. I can get hurt a thousand times, but I'm still fearless about love... and most other things. As damning and frustrating as it can be when things don't work out, I've learned to handle rejection like an adult. I don't allow my moods to rule my behavior (most times) and I sure as hell don't let anyone treat me less than their equal. I still have to address the foolhearty way I enter into romance, but I will admit, there's something fun about it... Perhaps it is still a remnant of that teenage dream of 'happily ever after', but for my own sake, I should learn to be a better gambler. I've also learned to stop swearing off love. Just like I promise that each cigarette I smoke is my last, I just as unambitiously pledge never to fall in love again after getting burned, only to find that no sooner have I voiced my vow, than I'm already willing to get right back in the saddle.
Most of all, I've learned to stop blaming myself... and in so doing, I've learned to like myself a lot more. (For clarity, I still take responsibility for my actions, but in terms of failed relationships, I do not feel the need to place all the blame on my shoulders... If things don't work out, then they simply don't work out.) I have things to improve upon, but all human beings are works-in-progress. It is not entirely my fault that things haven't worked out for me with men in the past, but if I'm going to change, it will be to ameliorate issues that irk me. My interest in men will not dictate how I so choose to alter my life. Congradulations, you've just read my new manifesto.
So here I stand, a woman scorned as though I was ripped from the pages of Sylvia Plath's The Collossus. And there you sit, reading this vingnette into my soul. Writing like this is the reason people slam blogs in the first place. Please pardon my openness, and if I have bored you by being trite, then I apologize. If anything, this blog entry was meant to be cathartic, so dear reader, this time, it was more about me than it is about you. Regardless, the message I want to get out there is that it is never too late to turn your life around, no matter how backed into a corner you may feel. AND as much as it hurts to give your heart to someone only to have it crushed in return, it's much better than playing it safe...
If you're out there and you run into Mr. Right, tell him to give me a call. I think I'm going to stop looking for him and just maybe he'll find me.
Cheers!
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