It’s 11 o’clock at night and I am sat awake listening to the rain. It’s been raining all day here in the Lake District, where I am currently on holiday with some family.
I just wanted to say, whilst it’s raining and I am feeling all sentimental and cosy, a huge thank you for the love and support yesterday. For the longest time I have kept my cards close to my chest. You all knew I blogged about mental health because I suffer with mental health. You all knew that my abandonment issues and my need for acceptance came from my adoption. But you never knew the true reason I wake up everyday with the need to chip in and do my bit to push this mental health movement.
For so long I had my secret, and it was mine to keep. I didn’t want to share with you something that was so precious to me. Love is a crazy thing, right? It chews us up, it spits us out and then we wait, bruised, battered and still trying to flag down the next taxi to happiness.
I have never really done the single thing. Loneliness terrifies me. I don’t regret giving my heart to any of the boys who’ve spent time with it. I don’t regret falling in love twice. But the way I see it, I have never deserved to fall in love twice.
You see, I am quite old fashioned when it comes to many things in life. I am constantly surrounded by people older than me, and that’s because the older conversations stimulate my intelligence. Thats not to say I don’t mix with people my own age, you’re just more likely to catch me in a restaurant with a glass of wine than falling out of a club at three in the morning. I like to talk about history and spend my weekends lost in a novel. When I meet someone, I like to know their favourite colour and what makes them laugh before I know the size of their manhood.
I love my generation, we are a generation that speaks what we think and stands up for what we believe in. But the way we have objectified love sends panic to my core. I feel like I don’t fit in.
So now that I am exploring the single world again, simply put, I’m scared.
I have always dreamed, and believed, that when we grow up, we find a man, or a woman, we go through the stages of a relationship, we get married and we grow old living our lives together. It goes back to that whole house, career, dog, car, marriage, children headspace that I have spoken about so many times on here.
When my first great love ended, I swore I’d never meet a man again. I swore to myself that I was done with love. Little did I know that further down the line I’d meet my second great love. We imploded. More like, I exploded and he was caught in the blast zone. It was never going to work because I just couldn’t grasp happiness. I didn’t – and still don’t – believe that I deserve to be happy. Maybe its the weight of my first loves death, or maybe that it’s because the only thing I ever believed in myself with was performing arts. Seriously. I have never, ever believed that I will pass any course, meet any man, find any career, but I have always known that I can get on stage and give a good performance. Weird, right?
Because of my overwhelming fear of happiness, I create drama for myself. I constantly question my surroundings when everything is going fine. I doubt so much. Few people in my life realise the extent of my self-doubt. I implode in situations because I have to know everything in order to calm my mind. When I don’t know everything, or worst, when I don’t understand everything, I feel like I can’t see clearly, and I begin to get frustrated.
So that is why, at half past eleven at night, with the rain hammering on my roof in the middle of the Lake District, I am questioning whether I truly deserve a third great love.
I have already had two. More than most will have in a lifetime. Surely that’s me done now? We all have relationships, so many of us have an ex, but how many true loves can you say you’ve had? The hardest part is letting go, and for the longest time I never could.
That was until Sunday night.
When I came moved back home in June, I had decided to resign myself from love. I no longer wanted a relationship, a marriage, a stable go to in my life. Part of me still doesn’t, I feel unlovable. I feel tainted, like all I am good for is flipping peoples lives before disappearing into the night.
But on Sunday, when I hit upload on my #ILiveItIBlogIt campaign post, time stopped.
I entered this weird phase of feeling like I was my own person again. For the whole evening, from seven o’clock onwards, I didn’t associate myself with pain. I didn’t feel the tiny fragments of my heart digging in to my chest. The love and support I had in comments, texts, phonecalls and DMs was overwhelming. For the first time in a long time, I felt okay.
Don’t get me wrong, I woke up yesterday morning and the dull ache of misery had returned. But now I finally recognise that I have people in my life who will support me, who will push me when I need to be pushed and who will guide me when I’ve lost my way.
I turn to my niece, her innocence and her happiness constantly radiate through. She is that light that shines brighter than all the other lights as you walk through a tunnel. I turn to my best friend, who, like me, has had her heart broken. She teaches me that we can all learn to try again. I turn to my other best friends, who’ve all settled down and now live with the men of their dreams. I look at the father I mentioned the other day. I am taught that life can take you on unexpected journeys and what matters most is that you stay true to yourself throughout.
I said it in Fridays post that we are all taught lessons by those around us. It was those around me that dragged me through the worst time, and encouraged me to post such a brutally honest story on Sunday. I have only just realised it was because they knew how much it’d help me.
Love is not a race. Love is not something you should give up on when your heart gets broken. Maybe all we need is somebody to piece it back together. We all deserve great loves. We all deserve to wipe our tears and find our smiles. Relationships end. Thats the brutal honest truth. But you will find the glue to piece your heart back together and try again.
Don’t feel like you have to trawl Tinder. Don’t reside yourself to a life of endless hookups and meaningless conversations. Your great love is out there, waiting.
I thank my two great loves for teaching me valuable lessons.
For having patience. For being understanding.
For managing to love someone as difficult and as average as me.
As for the third great love?
I’ll leave that in the hands of my future.
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