Friday, January 13, 2011
Tell us about the first time you were in love.
Tell us about the first time you were in love.
My shriveled heart gave in to your pushes;
We sought to scratch multiple itches.
Strength in numbers when conscious won’t cut it.
My seeking soul latched onto your spirit.
We met in madness and carried each other.
We learned like children how to be lovers.
Love is a funny thing. Do we ever really know what it is? We think that it is this longing in ourselves. We all feel it - and we think that love is what fills this void, only we equate that with romantic love and thus is created the search for matches. Why does everything have to have a match? Everything doesn’t. Love is most definitely the Word, but maybe we’re spelling it the wrong way or something? I don’t know what my point is. I suppose, just that the first time you are in love it is a funny time, isn’t it? Do you really even know what love is? Some people probably would say that they were “in love” with people who they didn’t even have relationships with. Is this possible? What constitutes love? Does that count? Can we feel this elusive feeling so intensely that we consider ourselves to “love” people we aren’t even necessarily committed to? Love is blind this way. And that’s where I think it differs from true love, real love, the love of light and creation. It’s different; it has nothing to do with penises or vaginas. And if you really get to the bottom of the feelings you had in high school, weren’t they mostly centered between your legs more than between your ribs? The point emerges. Young love is primarily hormone driven, yet we have the benefit of feeling it completely and intensely, heightened by hormones, carving it out permanently and passionately into our memory, our framework, our hearts, our thinking. Someone can love you obsessively and leave you forever questioning the meaning of love and your actual value as a person; is there really such a thing or is it just a chemical reaction to something, like my scent, just pheromones? I am an idea, an essence. We’re animals. We’re not special. I never felt special enough to feel loved when I was younger. I have always had issues with accepting love. If you don’t fully feel loved were you ever loved in the first place? Ponder that proverb.
I don’t know where I’m going with this. I’m just sitting here watching my husband sleep, the father of my child, the man I live with and give a degree of my life to, and it is so funny to think of the “first” time I was in love. What if I can’t remember? What if love to me back then isn’t even close to what I hold the definition to be today? If we are growing at all, I don’t think that it can be. But what if a part of me now doesn’t even know what real love is? (Yes, these are the things I think about. :P)
All I’m saying is I have went through my life with this loneliness, this emptiness, this hollow feeling inside of myself. Always had it. It seemed to be always there, constant loneliness. I had my first serious relationship (how serious are you when you are a teen though?) when I was 15 years old. I dated my boyfriend for a total of 8 years. I am still very good friends with him today, he introduced me to my husband, and I see him sometimes every day of the week. I love him. I have loved him for years. When we broke up I loved him. A lot of people don’t necessarily understand what we have and people think that it is odd. They think it’s odd that I still talk to him, let alone hang out with him and have him in my daughter’s daily life. He’s friends with my husband. We’re all friends here.
It works because we got over the possession stage of love, the pseudo love feeling of owning an individual. Where we are so desperate to fulfill ourselves that we lay physical claim to people. There are three men I think I own a little piece of. Why do we view it that way? Someday, I want to be able to claim my piece, that’s all I’m saying! We graduated to where we honestly want the other to be happy. We don’t pine for each other. I’m not going to lie, we are closer than just friends, I mean, we used to do it (we just had a laugh about this yesterday), but there are always "what if" feelings in any situation like this. I have a lot of "what ifs" in my life (enter piece #2). I suppose some call them regrets. I have worked on letting them go, but I still have them. They are a piece of me. They won’t let go. Ever. A person can’t help to wonder. The difference is, I don’t pine for it. (Now come on, that’s a lie.) Okay, I still pine, perhaps, but not for...that. But what.is.it?
I love my husband more than anyone - other than my daughter, who he kind of gave to me in a way. He found me at a time of despair and misdirection, when I was completely lost and needed a lot of help. I think Joey is the “you get what you need” in my life; I feel like he was an answer to something I sent out, the proverbial question again. I am very blessed and lucky to have the life and things that I have. My husband takes good care of me and has allowed me to grow immensely as a person. That is very fulfilling.
I feel like he has helped me along my path faster than I would have been able to get me there myself just by allowing me time to self reflect. He has done so much for me and has fulfilled so much in me but his love has also taught me that even though we have this love for someone else, that isn’t what completes us. We are all capable of being complete on our own, supposedly, because we already are. It wasn’t the loneliness of a relationship. It was the loneliness of Self. Other parts of me. But where did I lose them, and where did I leave her?
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