Words are so powerful. I love them. I think that’s why I hate emojis so much. Use words dammit–we have so many good ones out there. Oh, sure, I use the occasional 🙂 or 😉 but I’m old school and refuse to use the traditional emojis. Words dammit–use words.
I have many friends, women and men, that I love and have told that I loved them. And, if you’re one of them, you should know I meant it. I do not use it unless I mean it–ever. It’s too special. Love is a word, for me, that means I care in the strongest sense about you. I will have your back, I will defend you (even when your wrong), and I will almost always say “yes” to a favor you ask of me. It is not romance–it’s a deep feeling that I have where you are my family. You are my circle. Like wolves in a pack–you are part of my pack and I look out for my pack. I am the type of person that needs a pack–I do not do well alone.
Now let me clarify–I’ve done plenty of things alone. I’ve traveled alone. I’ll decide to quit a job without asking anyone’s opinion. When I got married I went to the dress shop alone and picked out and bought my own wedding gown alone. I’ve driven myself to and from surgeries (and lied that there was someone waiting for me outside). I’ve gone to concerts alone. I’ve gone to the movies alone. I go to dinner alone. I do plenty of things alone and sometimes honestly enjoy the peace that comes with just checking out for a bit and not needing to speak or consider another person. To daydream, think, recharge. But in my mind, my pack is always there and if I need someone I will call on them. If I can’t reach one friend I’ll call another. My circle of friends is strong.
Now, the word adore? That one–that one’s serious, especially to me. The actual definition of adore is, “
I’m not sure if he realized how powerful the word was, particularly to me, and the first time he said it I was frightened. It was too soon to talk like that–we had just started dating. But he used it a lot and kept saying it. And the more he said it the more I liked hearing it.
So I started to let my guard down. I wanted to see what it could feel like–to feel emotion again, to feel connection and intimacy with another person, and he was saying all the things I wanted to hear. And pretty soon the sound and thought of being adored was outweighing my fear of being hurt.
I work hard to protect myself–mainly my soul. You know the man I told you I adored? I don’t want to blame him but the reality is that he destroyed me–or our relationship destroyed me. No, it was him–he fucked me up badly. When I was recently in the hospital (and almost died–c’mon.. I haven’t said it in like.. hours..) my friend Bev told him where I was–the ICU. I was dying. She told me he asked where I was and I remember laying all day watching the door waiting for him to come to me. He never showed. Why did I wait? I don’t know–I guess I’m tenacious and have a hard time letting go.
Apathy–do you know that one? That seems to be my constant state now. The definition of apathy is;
I work hard to protect myself. I don’t know what I’ll do the next time the rug gets pulled out from under me. I just can’t handle that pain again. There’s a great song by Alanis Morrisette called Havoc. She sings:
“Just when I thought
I had handles on this
I can soften my guard behind false confidence
Just when I felt
Humble pie insipid
Exempt from this blind-side and firmly in its grip
Cause I am seduced by reaction and under the influence
I’m slipping again
I’m up to old tricks off my wagon
I have no defense I’m
Wreaking havoc and consequence
I get reduced by my own willfulness as
I reach for my usual God replacements
Cause I am rich with sanction and lax in my steps”
So you already can assume the end of this story–can’t you? He’s gone already–as quickly as he came in, he left. And I’m back to thinking that my initial plan of just not letting anyone in is the best course of action. Will I date? I guess–I don’t like being alone all the time. But the next time I hear a man tell me I’m amazing, or they really like me, or they adore me, or anything other than “I’ll call ya” I’m going to get the fuck out of there fast. I’ve realized that I’m just too fragile. Like Alanis says, “false confidence” and clearly just want to be loved or adored. So when they bolt, and they always do, it crushes me and I usually find myself getting insanely drunk to drink them away (wreaking havoc and consequence).
I was curled on my bed the other night, crying, and my 13 year old son came in the room. He looked at me and I quickly wiped my tears and pretended all was fine. He said, “What’s wrong?” I stared at him and after a moment said, “I’m just tired of waiting for something good to happen.” He looked at me and as he dragged my poor dog out of the room he said simply, “Well mom, we’re at the bottom. You’re just going to have to look up.”