And while we’d lay beside each other again, many more nights over many years, I never felt seen by him again. Yet he looked at me- he watched me- naked and splayed,vulnerable and crying; drunk and high, living and dying.
And all she had left to give in that moment were her tears.
Tell me what your fears are
and I’ll bury them with me.
I read that we are not afraid of love but afraid of not being loved back.
I’m afraid that with each passing year, I have become hard of heart yet I want to be soft. I want to be as soft as the flesh thats pads my sturdy bones. As soft as my eyes when they swell with tears. I want my heart to be sculpted by hands that could melt metal and break wood.
I want to be reminded that the love I give is not shameful. It is a gift.
It was beginning
To be my year.
I felt movement,
Felt like myself again,
Whoever that is.
I liked it. Her.
But then the clock
And something changed.
I lost my footsteps
In the snow.
I’ve barely slept since.
And the nooks,
To be loved.
A lovely friend of mine asked me to write a piece for her therapy business website. So I did! It’s about eschewing New Years Resolutions for breaking your goals down into smaller steps.
For too long I’ve dreaded aloneness, afraid of feeling forgotten or overlooked. Unwanted. Unloved. I binged and purged on the attention of others and resented them when it wasn’t enough and resented them more when it was too much.
I’d forgotten what it was like to be apart and on my own. To choose company instead of demanding it and desperately needing it to fill the void I felt in my bones. So frightened of being forgotten that I forgot myself. Life is quiet right now and I feel safe.
After all the tears, rehearsed conversations and nights awake worrying, the end of the whole affair was quiet, considered and calm. She held out for one extra night together, just in case things might be different this one time but she realised that he was who he was and not what she needed anymore, if ever. He didn’t need her expectations. She didn’t need his indifference. Her love was misplaced and misconstrued. His love? She had no idea.