I keep finding myself running. In the past I would physically run. I’d pack up my feelings and my things and I would leave. I would remove myself from a situation. I’ve run from good things and bad things. I’ve run from abuse, I’ve run from blessings. I’ve run from others and I’ve run from myself.
For a moment I thought I was done running because I’ve been in the same place for four years. I’ve realized that I’m still running. I’m running from my thoughts. I’m running from my feelings. I’m running from my truth.
As much as I’d like to think that I’m living an honest and truth filled life, I’m not. As much as I’d like to think that I’m living on my own terms and not anyone else’s, I’m not. I’m still incredibly aware and cautious of other’s perceptions and judgments. It’s doing more harm than good.
I know what I’ve been searching for; I know what I’m still missing. I have pieces that could be forced together to present an image but it’s not the image that I’ve always seen in my heart. Do I settle for it because it could be “it” if we force it? Or do I leave almost for in hopes of?
Having the freedom to explore while still bound has resulted in me breaking my own rules. I’ve seen what I’m missing in others. Those others, however, have their own binds. Do I settle for pieces of what I want? Do I settle for feeling what I desire sometimes? Do I sacrifice the sometimes for in hopes of?
I don’t know if it’s that I don’t believe that I deserve the whole, the always, the entire. I don’t know if it’s that I don’t have enough faith in time and myself to believe that if I hang in there that I’ll eventually find my whole, always and entire. The only thing that I know right now is that I’ve found the part, the sometimes, the piece.
I have to ask myself am I willing to live this fragmented life. I know what other people believe, but I believe that this life is about feeling. Feeling connected, feeling love, feeling loved, and feeling loving and feeling others. He makes me feel things that I’ve never felt and I don’t mean that in the clichéd sense. I honestly have never felt these things. Not even remotely.
I’ve said that it’s not love but since then, I’ve thought about that. Is it not love? It feels like it. It looks like it. Am I overanalyzing it? Love is pure in its essence. Love will always be regardless of how we try to dress it up and make it behave. It will always be. Is it love? Is it that I’m too wrapped up in our realities, in our obligations, in the… “extraness” that we hang up on love’s hooks.
It feels so much like the love that I recognize but it’s not. It’s taken me months to understand this. I feel trust, I feel safety, I feel like I’m understood, I feel like I’m appreciated in the capacities that I give myself, I feel beautiful, I feel wanted and needed. That feels a lot like love. But it isn’t.
Love itself is pure. Love is simple and not complicated. It’s simply what it is. It becomes complicated when we allow external forces to influence it. Love will exist despite how we fight, what we have or believe we need. Love will always make itself known.
Rereading that as if I hadn’t written it sounds like it’s love but I’m afraid and unwilling to admit it. It sounds like I’m too worried about how it will seem or be perceived. It sounds like I’m too worried about arbitrary timetables and definitions. It sounds like I’m afraid to own all of what I feel. It seems like I fear that the object of this love will be disturbed by it. This has left me sitting here thinking. Why do we place so much stake in it? Why do we tie it to so much pressure and so many expectations? Why can’t it just be? Why must something always grow from it? Can we not just have love and allow it to exist? Does it have to blossom into something else? I don’t think it does.
In this case, this grew from something foreign. In many cases we attribute it to relationships and futures and growing together. But in this experience with Him I’ve realized that playing with trust, with faith, with pure selves, with time, with interactions such as this… if it’s real then it’s inevitable. I found myself trusting this person and bearing myself in an abnormal way and it was received. It was appreciated. It was met with respect, with gratitude and adoration. It was received.
I’ve been struggling with the end of it and I haven’t been able to put my finger on it. I haven’t been able to make peace. I’ve been holding a truth that I’ve tried to dress up as something else. I’ve been afraid of owning it because I’ve been afraid of it being rejected. But I mean, I’ve been rejected, my service has been rejected, my loyalty and my gifts have been rejected. So why am I so afraid of owning a truth that won’t change anything? Why am I afraid of letting this truth stand on its own instead of forcing it to masquerade as hypothetical scenarios?
I had been unusually bare and exposed. I had shared fears and insecurities. I trusted, I gave, I served. I acknowledge that each and everything about “that” was illogical. I acknowledge that I struggled with its nonsensical nature. But what I’ve realized is that those hypotheticals that I posed while we “were” served me because I was testing the waters. I could feel something shifting in me and I wanted to make sure that it was safe. I wanted to make sure that if we were going to move forward in this truthfully that it was safe for my heart to be as invested as the rest of me. I was told it was. Then it ended abruptly. I was rudely awakened by the truth that I was avoiding. The hypotheticals were actuals and I simply hadn’t the opportunity to sit with them and understand them.
I still don’t know the ins and outs of it but most of me feel like it’s unnecessary. If it’s safe, then I’ll own it. It is love. Does that change my expectations? Does that change my hopes? Not in the least. But I want to be able to live in that and live with that instead of being fearful, shameful and embarrassed by it. After all, it’s pure. Right? It’s simple, right? It will always exist despite how fight, what we have or believe we need, right? It will always make itself known… Right?