As a disclaimer I should say that there's still a part of me that feels embarrassed to even speak about love. Like how dare I be so honest about the pain of misunderstanding my loveability. But since I've come to understand how common my mistake is for so many people, I finally feel brave enough to just say what I feel and what I've learned, in hope that it inspires the same realizations in others.
I've never been able to grasp the possibility that a man could love me so much that he'd actually get down on one knee and ask me to spend the rest of my life with him. Since I was little I fantasized about it, I wanted it, but I couldn't truly fathom that someone would think I was worthy of that kind of love and commitment. (And even as I type that, there's a rebel ogre in my mind that's scolding me for admitting to such a "pathetic idea.") I was taught, in some ways, that I should expect other people to enjoy the rewards of love, but that I would always be on the sidelines. I mistakenly learned that there were things about me that were simply unloveable. And not just small things like my feet are constantly clammy and cold in the winter, but big things, like almost everything about my personality isn't suited for another person to put up with.
But after 28 years of experiences on this planet, I'm finally ready to be done with the ridiculous idea that I can't have loud, whole-hearted love in my life. That I can't have a large group of strong, mutually supportive friends. That I can't be considered beautiful just as I am. That I can't love as strongly as other people can. Or that there are no more "good men" left.
(By the way, everyone left is good. As long as you know that, you'll see it everyone, no matter where they are on their journey.)
The problem is not that I'm unworthy or incapable of love, the problem is that I have only ever accepted what I thought I deserved. I took it as personal truth when the men I fell for chose not to love me back. I didn't realize that I was falling for emotionally unavailable, commitment-phobic and hurting men because they're behavior reflected what I expected to be true about myself. I desperately wanted the validation of their love, but I couldn't have it.
So here's a snapshot of what I know: I want to come home everyday to someone I deeply love. I want us to know mutual safety, stability and fun in each other's company. I want to burn dinners because we're too caught up making out in the kitchen. I want to go on spontaneous trips, joke about getting married in Vegas, and then maybe do it for real. I want to grow unique, beautiful babies who know their worth in the world. I want to fight about who gets less sleep and then laugh when we realize we keep each other up more than the babies do. I want granite counter tops... covered in chocolate chip pancake batter cause we let the kids cook. I want to tear down old walls, both physical and figurative, and build new enterprises together. I want to share in the ecstatic heartache of allowing all our love to manifest outside ourselves with a will of its own. I want to inspire others to trust in the goodness of love just because of the example we set.
I know now that I can have all of this because I am all of this. It's not something intangible and out of reach that I can pity myself for never having. It's something that has always been mine since the day I unceremoniously graced the planet. And if it's mine, it must belong to others too. I don't need to be ashamed or embarrassed that I want this deep, wide and loud love because that's exactly what I was put on the earth to provide.
