Love Like That Again

It is crazy to me, sometimes, to go back and read something that I wrote last year and think – wow, have things changed.  It’s crazy to read something so powerful and to remember exactly the place I was in but my perspective this time around – oh so different. 

I write more (way more) than I post on here but its mostly for self-preservation.  When I do post, I know I take a risk with the few people who still know who I am and continue to read the insides of my head on this blog.  But I always feel better when the words are out of my head.  I suppose most times, it is a risk worth taking.

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June 2008
Love Like That Again

I remember what it was like.  How difficult it was to feel unwelcome in a place that I longed to be.  With a person who I wanted to build my life around and with – ignoring all logic and following my heart totally and completely.  I remember waking up on weekends to the warm sun streaming in though the blinds, hoping that it would be a good day.  Hoping I would feel comfortable and she would feel happy I was there and the strength of our love could overpower whatever shit we were wading through – if only for just a day.  And sometimes it would.  We’d curl up into each other and I’d bury myself in her neck and drown in how much I adored her.  When the dog’s whining and thumping turned into full-out crying, we’d throw on flip-flops and grab the leash and bound down the stairs, lab in tow, and greet the day.  We’d cross the street for coffee and bagels, sit and watch cartoons until noon with the balcony door slid open and the cat rolling around in the sun soaked carpet.  We’d lazily hang around – or we’d go out, shopping, or walking, or into the city for dinner or to meet friends.  We did what we wanted to – with each other, always.  In between these times, I waited on the storm, waiting for it to stop feeling like a problem and start feeling like a partnership again.  And it would, ultimately, like it always did.  We never stayed in the dark.  We also never stayed in the light.  And this was the great debate.  Was it supposed to be so hard?

I’m not sure how or why this encasement has surrounded my heart.  I don’t remember letting it happen, I don’t remember fighting it either.  I remember drowning in pain and the thought of a life completely thrown off track.  I remember thinking I had to let her go but that I had no idea how it was even possibe.  Somewhere, in between my life falling apart and my heart being shattered, I found anger.  And resentment.  And fear of feeling so vunerable and helpless and fucked up again.  I believe it was anger that helped me build these walls, to protect me while I rebuilt within.
 
It is not without price, however, that these walls were formed.  The walls blocked out emotions that I had previously accepted with open arms, always touting my ability to believe in love, no matter the cost.  These walls changed a part of myself, a part of my foundation – the core belief that love would fix anything had suddenly been shut out and a new, less irreverent face took its spot within my heart.  It told me that allowing anothers soul to flood every vessel of your own would lead to nothing but destruction, and loss.  Nothing good could come from such an openly emotional existence, it said.  You must shut down, you must stay guarded.  You must not be so quick to love, to believe in the truth and faith and light.  Caution is the only way to prevent this from happening again.  And like a worn-out soul, desperate to find a fix for this pain, I listened.
 
I have no doubt that these walls need to be taken down.  But I do still question my ability to love like this again.  I question how much I have given of myself to this woman – and how much she will take with her when she goes.  Does love regenerate?  Does it grow more limbs it its place, allowing you once again give it away?  Or is it finite in its resources – does it get worn down with every bump, every fall, every broken piece of us that we lose when we lose someone else?  Can we run out?  I thought that my walls were there to protect me from losing my reserves.  There must be something left, I thought, and I must protect it.  I have to be able to love again, in some capacity.  And if not, what then?  What would even be the point of going further if all was lost? 
 
How do I convince myself to love like that again?