Revitalization's Weblog

For the curious, questioning, and wandering soul

Archive for first love

You thought

You thought he was going to be the next great love, another great chapter in the love story of your life. Another man, another great love, perhaps the great love. You saw so much potential in him, he was handsome, he was charming, his smile just melted you, his laugh…. his openness, his bluntness, the way he was raw with you. Even the way he was hesitant, unsure…. this was new for you, not another man trying to get you, you… you had to work for him, show him, encourage him… it was novel indeed.

Gosh, I thought he felt the same way. Maybe he didn’t know it yet. Maybe he was unsure. Maybe he was still stuck on his ex. He didn’t imagine it could be this good, that he could meet someone like me, beautiful, ambitious, smart, successful, funny, talented, caring, open, and honest. He didn’t know what to do with what was sitting right in front of him… why didn’t he know what to do? Why didn’t he try to chase me, capture me, hold on to me because of all that I am…. Did he not see the potential in us that I saw, that I deeply knew. Why was he not being honest with himself. We could be so great.

Gosh. Goddamn. I wanted it to be him. I wanted him to give me what I’ve had before and even more. You’re always told the next love isn’t better, it’s different, but it also fits just a little bit more. I thought he was going to fit a little bit more. I thought he would eventually choose me. But he didn’t. Why didn’t he choose me…

He told me he had reservations. He had doubts. Fucking emotional baggage. I don’t blame him or his exes. It is what it is, but why couldn’t he be more mature and overcome those things. It the saying really true, it’s not only the right person, but it’s also the right time. I would hope, so deeply hope, that if I met the right person that they would choose me, no matter the time, day, night, heartache, or jubilee, the would want me to be there, they would try, they would hold onto me.

He didn’t hold onto me. He told me he wasn’t sure of what he wanted. He told me I was amazing. He told me it was unfair of him to make me wait. Well that’s goddamn for fucking sure. Goddamit. What an idiot. A beautiful, handsome, lovely idiot.

I just go over it in my head. Over and over and over and over. I try to look at every moment. Every conversation. And scrutinize and figure out. All in all, I did fucking awesome, I was honest, I was open, I told him exactly how I felt, I held my standards, and… he still didn’t choose me, he still didn’t want me. Is that what’s driving me? The want of something I cannot have? I don’t think so. I really, truly, deeply think that I am still… still…. I still question why he didn’t choose me because I had high hopes, I saw the potential, but I also felt the connection. As I dwell on it, dwelllllllll, well I start to question it, it starts to grow and distort in my mind, it looses it’s original shape, it’s original dimensions. It starts becoming art, a creation, a fiction of my imagination… It starts to become something that it’s not. I wish my head could lead my heart. I wish to believe that I met a great guy last year, in the winter, and we went on a few dates, and we kissed, and I was excited, but we were in different places, he didn’t know what he wanted and I knew and I still know. He told me I was amazing, he said I wouldn’t be single long. Well that’s the shittiest of them all, isn’t it. Like he is trying to comfort me that some other guy will scoop me up because I’m so great. Fuck you. Fuck you man. Shit. I don’t want to hear that from you, of all people. I wanted that man to be you. You let me go, and you told me to move on. Double whammy. Wha-pow. Damn.

I look at you, and it’s starting to be from a distant. I think time allows us to let things go. Dissociation. The natural forgetting. The forgetting of your face, your glasses, your hair, your hugs, and your smile. The forgetting of the way you radiated when I made you laugh. The forgetting of how awkward and deep your voice was on the phone.

Mixed emotions is an understatement. Because I am glad I met you. You, you reminded me of the things I value, of the qualities I look for in someone. I could list off a hundred, but let’s not blow up your ego while I’m the one feeling down, okay? You’re great, I know it and you know it because I was so persistent with you. But I also want to forget you. I think about you and the missed potential often. I guess there was no potential, there was no reality, no future. You weren’t there. Everything I imagine, it wouldn’t have happened. I want to ease my mind and my heart. I want to slow down and take a breath. I want to remind myself that there are great, wonderful guys who will love me back, who will want me. It’s rare. Maybe I’m saddened by spotting something rare and having to let it whisp by, willingly. I have to encourage myself to let you go. Because you let me go, willingly, you saw me, you knew me, you knew how I felt about you, and you let me go. You told me to move on.

Attachment is suffering, the Buddhists got it right. But attachment is human. And suffering is human. And even with the suffering, I am glad to have known you but more importantly known the potential. Just like my ex, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything, because it was such a huge experience and part of my life. I want to be able to admire the beauty in our situation and apply it to the future, without the heartache or sorrow of missing something with you.

I want to tell myself that you were’t right for me. That the right person would have chosen me, every single fucking time. I want to tell myself that you’re an idiot, you’re a shitless coward, you live within your fear. Who the fuck am I to say these things? I will say, it wasn’t black and white. You left us in a gray zone. You left me in a gray zone. And you left me to make my way through the fog, squinting, trying to find my way to the light.

Look. I guess all I’m trying to say is. I am sorrowful for my mind and for my heart. I want to ease them both, comfort them, and reassure them. You let me go. You did that. I had no power, no control. All things considered, I think I handled that situation like a boss. You let me go, and I have to let you let me go. I have to be okay with that. I want to be okay with that. I want you to become a distant memory now. Something of my past. Something I can fondly remember as a distant memory that would take 3.5 seconds to recall and to mull over and to brush past. Like men of my past… I want your details, our interactions, our conversations, I want them to fade away. I want to find someone who wants me, who wants to hold onto me and never let me go, someone who will fight fucking hard to be with me and will show me every damn day that they care about me.  I want a great love. It’s difficulty to find.

I acknowledge that I miss you, that I wish you gave us a chance, that you told me to move on and that you didn’t want to date me. I acknowledge my sorrow and sadness about the situation. I acknowledge that for what ever reason the timing and maybe definitely the person wasn’t right. I acknowledge that my eyes start to water when I feel my heart starting to break. And I acknowledge my desire to move on, to find someone great and for it to be different, even better for me.

A, I wish you the best. I wish that you find your peace with your exes and your past. I wish that you do everything you want in life. And most of all, I wish that you find a beautiful, wonderful, smart, loving woman who will fulfill everything that you want, make you feel wanted and safe, and who will push you, challenge you and grow with you. I want only good things for you. I hope you find great love and I hope when you find her that you hold onto her and don’t let her go. I hope that you know that you’re deserving, that others shouldn’t ever question your worth, that you’re  a catch. I wish you only the best in your future and just… stay open, don’t be jaded, let her in, she means well. I hope you find her when you’re open and ready and supposed to find her.

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Hands

She’s a young woman, waves of black cascade down as her head hangs, her face in her hands. She sits, she ponders, she feels… something sad from within. Something of sorrow.  She feels her heart, so ready, brimming with love and possibility, abundant with ardor and zeal. She feels it thumping and thumping, as if knocking on her chest from within, asking: is it time yet?

She lifts her head, her dark eyes gaze downwards with eyelids heavy, she looks down upon her hands, they’re open, concave, soft and smooth. They sit calmly before her, in no rush, wisely waiting, calmly existing, knowing that when the right hands come to hers, they will fit. Simply. And they won’t ever let go.

She looks to her past

She looks to her past, she sees glimpses of memories, the moments that made impressions so deep, imprints in her mind that returns in a fleeting second… triggered by anything, a photo, a smell, an object… She looks to her past, she sees him… and how much of herself was wrapped up in him, how she changed because of him, how much she grew in confidence and self-love because of him, how she loved so deeply for him… She remembers the love, the feeling… and… even after a year, as the details of his face become hazy, and the feeling of his hands become blurry, she remembers within an instance how it felt to be so deeply and purely loved and how beautiful and scary it was to love in return. The mind prefers to remember the good, the beauty, the special moments, the firsts, the laughs, the utter bliss, the passion… I think the mind naturally tries to block out the bad, perhaps it’s protective, but the mind easily forgets, perhaps it actively forgets the moments that broke her, that broke them apart.

And she still wonders why sometimes… She still questions where the love goes. There’s still a slight sadness that she carries with her, always, because it feels like something that was so loved, so cherished, cultivated carefully and bloomed, the love between two people that existed, that spanned a portion of their lives… well it’s not allowed to be anymore, it has to pass, to dissolve, to fade, to somehow cease existing even though there was a time where it was everything– it was vibrant, it was full of life, it was full of  future, of promise.

It’s sad, this is true, because the loss of love feels like the death of something dear. The death of something so powerful and beautiful. But she knows, at least she feels she knows, and her gut nudges her to believe that this is right, that this is how it was supposed to be. She tries, every single day, to take the good from him, from them.. to remember the good moments, the bliss, and to realize that she can and will find those emotions and feelings again. She tries, every single day, to remember that the love that she felt from him was a reflection of the love that she gave, that her openness and vulnerability facilitated that deep connection. That being true to herself, her wants, her desires and her dreams allowed for an incredible relationship with another human. And it’s a learning process, that’s what life is, right? To learn and continually adapt. She learns, she grows, and she hurts but she also adapts.

Keep growing, keep learning, and keep adapting. Take the blows in stride, take the losses as part of the journey… it’s a part of it, it’s the only true way to understand the value of love. Take the lessons and keep moving forward.

I’ve known love once

I’ve known love once. I fell in love once. I don’t think I knew what was happening, because I had never known love before. He was beautiful, he was charming, he adored me. Slowly, we fell in love. And there were moments, those outer body moments, where it was like I was watching us, so in love, wanting that moment to last forever and wondering if everyone in this world has felt bliss like that. I wanted to live in that heaven for eternity, laughing, smiling and in utter bliss. We had such beautiful moments, full of passion, utterly real, two people completely vulnerable, honest, and wrapped up in each other. I loved the way in smelled, the way he felt- his skin, his hair, his jaw, I loved the way my eyes met his. He showed me himself, he gave me everything. Needless to say, that when it ended, it was like a sucker-punch to the stomach, the wind was knocked out me, I saw my utopia disintegrate in front of my eyes, my heaven shattered. And in a split second, he was gone. I found myself alone, without my lover, my best friend, my person. I’ve never felt such pain, such distress, such confusion, such longing, such loss, such sorrow. It was like a death. I couldn’t understand, I couldn’t fathom how a love like that could fall, break, dissolve, disappear…. simply end. I don’t think I understand it fully, even to this day…. I don’t know if I ever will, but maybe that is because I was only half of it, half of us. But also, I don’t think any answer or reasoning will ever satisfy my deep sorrow for why it ended. Why our love wasn’t enough, why we couldn’t make it work. Still, I think I have gained some understanding, some closure, some peace because in my heart and in my mind, I know it wasn’t right, I know that if I went back it would have been settling, it would have been dishonest, it would have been cowardly, it would have been out of fear of being alone. So, there are two things I now know for sure: we were deeply in love and we should not be together.

Do I regret falling in love now knowing the gut-wrenching pain that followed when it ended? No, I don’t. I would never and could never regret that. Because now I have known what love is, what it feels like to love someone so deeply, and to be loved by someone so deeply. It’s like nothing else I’ve known. That gives me hope, that gives me excitement that there is even more to discover. It seemed like and still seems like finding love is like hoping for lightening to strike you. It seems like such a beautiful, awe-inspiring, and amazing thing like love would be such a rarity, that to be able to discover it again may be every so close to impossible, but I’ll take that odds. I, right here and now, take those odds, I bet on myself, I bet on love. Always bet on love. I’m better for the experience, I am more knowledgable and more understanding of what’s out there, and I’m even more excited and eager to discover what I have yet to know or experience. As I peer out towards the future, the unknown excites me, who I will become excites me, and who I will come to know excites me. I’m not waiting for love, I’m not putting my life, my aspirations, my dreams on hold, but I’m hopeful. Hopeful that I will find another love that is deeper, truer, and more enlightening than my last. I sit here, at peace, happy and ever so hopeful.

What is it?

What is it about a man?

Is it his eyes, that pierce straight into yours, beautiful blues and greens. Is it his smile? That genuine smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. Is it his jaw? Strong, firm and covered in soft facial hair. Is it his shoulders? His arms? His hands? That pull you in and hold you tight at night, that pick you up and twirl you around, that wipe away the tears from your eyes. Is it his chest? The most heavenly place to rest your head and allow your mind to wander as you feel each and every lub dub. Is it his legs? Long, lean, powerful and able to run beside you. Is it his smell? So intoxicating, it smells of home, of familiarity. It’s a smell that comforts, that reminds you in an instant of the essence of him. Is it his mind? Utterly complex. A mind that knows the world but remains untarnished and unjaded, a mind that is humble and kind, patient and loving, giving and truthful.

What is it about a man?

The beauty and the bliss

Is it the loneliness? Is it the quiet? What makes heartbreak so darn heartbreaking?

It’s been 3 months, and I still think about him every day. I feel my mind, my brain enjoys to revisit him in my memories. I feel my mind likes to revisit those thoughts, those moments that are so effortlessly permanent and accessible. As if my brain finds solace to go back, dig through the mess, the months, the days, to sift through it all and pull out the beauty and the bliss. Those moments of us laying in bed together, staring into each others eyes. Those moments of us making love so passionately. Those moments of us running and laughing, with such joy. Those moments of us holding handing across the table, having deep conversations about what makes us human. Those moments when I laid on his chest as he stroked my hair and I could so clearly envision our future, the years together, growing old, and going through life hand in hand, heart in heart.

I think we really, deeply loved each other. I think that’s rare to find. I think having a first love that deep and that true, well I think I’m lucky to have had that. I know I am. We were so in love, and I didn’t realize how deeply until after it ended. He expressed it often, and he expressed it sincerely. I never knew what that felt like. I never knew I could develop such a personal and raw connection with someone… a connection that held no ego, no whims, no frills. It was just us, ourselves.

And when it was great, it was truly great. And I can recall moments when I laid in bed with him, smiling ear to ear, laughing and really being present and realizing what bliss we had. I remember questioning if this could last, if this could continue forever. I remember thinking that I could live in that moment forever with him, in his arms. And I sit here, writing this, with tears running down my face, because…. because it hurts to have loved so deeply and to know, and understand that that person is gone from my life, cut out completely, a person who I loved so deeply, who cared for me so profoundly… is gone.

It’s hard, even now, to grapple everything that happened during those 13 months. But more importantly, it’s hard to understand, to really dissect and understand why we didn’t work. Why we fought, why we didn’t communicate, why we butted heads, why he kicked me out of his life, why I wouldn’t take him back. It’s hard to understand why someone who you love so much, could cause so much pain. Both in the moment, with words, but also now, with the absence of words. I wish so badly that we could be friends, because I find it so terrible, so fucking unfair that I cannot have any semblance of a relationship with the man who held my heart, who loved me so deeply, who taught me so much about myself and about the world, with the man who made such an impression in my life… why the hell can we not be friendly, why can we not for the sake of those blissful moments just leave things on good terms. Why does he have such animosity towards me ? He once said he would always love me, even if he hated me he would always love me. Where does that love go? Does it stay in the past, does it stay with those memories, superglued to our youthful selves, nestled within our soft kisses and warm embraces.

It’s hard. It really is hard to let go. I read once in a book about Buddhism that life is a constant process of letting go, of people, of places, of experiences. I think, during heartbreak, we so desperately want to hold on to the love, to the happiness, to those memories that made it all worth it, to that person that turned our world upside down, inside out and showed us a new version of the world that held endless possibility, wonder and promise. It’s difficult to let that person go, those moments go. It’s equally difficult to have faith, to somehow believe and trust that you will find someone just as powerful and influential again. Call me a skeptic, but it’s hard to believe one can struck by lightening twice. Something that felt so rare, so pure, so perfect. And it’s even harder to believe that one will find someone better, someone who is more compatible, someone who will stand the test of time, the ups and downs, someone who will weather the stormiest of fights and hold you forever.

As humans, we crave connection, we crave love, we crave unconditional acceptance, we crave companionship. I found it once. And I lost it once. I’m finding that losing it is almost as difficult as finding it. But, I firmly believe, that it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. And now that I’ve had a taste of it, of that beautiful love, of that deep and profound love… I know I’ll be chasing it again and again, perhaps forever.