Once upon a time I was hurt. I was hurt bad. Everyone of course has their own battles scars, and I would not only be naive, but plain stupid to believe I was alone in that aspect. We have our own tales of woe to tell of hurt and loved lost. And everyone has that "one" experience that tips the crazy scale personally where it was really hard to get over the relationship and said lover. I've always been a strong person, I've always known I'm a survivor, but those dark days were god awful and there was a time when I didn't know how I was going to pull myself out of it. I felt like I was in a ditch looking up at the small opening of the blue skies shining above. There was hope, but it was out of reach. That lasted weeks, almost months, and now its dwindled down to mere moments not whole days. In fact its been a long long time since I've even had a "moment." In recent months I've only prided myself on how independent and happy I've been because I've looked to my friends and family for the love I thought I was missing. And it worked like a charm, I feel as if the world is my oyster and I have so much to look forward to instead of looking back on.
But damn those sappy movies that they play surrounding Valentine's Day, for last night I had a "moment." Last night I slumped and fell back into it without so much as a flinch. It overcast a deep, dark shadow seeping through my pores and sinking my soul to a dark place I had forgotten how to navigate. To remedy that, I sat and I wrote, I let it all out and purged myself so that when I stood again, I stood stronger.
Its peculiar when I have those moments and then after I've regained focus to take a look back. I feel quite silly for ever having that lapse in strength, which ultimately eludes to questioning the path in which I have chosen. Evenutally I feel stupid for allowing the hurt to creep in and wrestle with my emotions. One side of me is saying, "Be strong, suck it up, you're better than any of this." The other is saying, "let it out, just let it go." I find a happy medium if I give in to both, but its a scary fine line if it becomes all too frequent. I've learned how to face the demons that well inside and push the hurt, because I know my valiant ego will return from its vacation and take over, clearing the tears, soothing the soul and ensuring that activities resume to normal once again.
I've learned in the last year or so that its ok to let down the defenses once in a while. I've also learned that not everybody should be privy to that either. For whatever reason I've built in a defense mechanism that will only allow a few select in, a VIP to the nether world of my emotions, if you will. Its become extremely important to me not to give access to such things anymore because unfortunatly people have their own issues, no one wants to hear mine and not only that, they are too self absorbed to be of any use anyway. So here I stay, in my little club of a select few, moving on, pushing forward, doing me.
However I will admit, just this once, that I do infact miss the arms around me. I miss the warmth of another body. I miss feeling completely and totally vulnerable to another being. I miss his heartbeat. I miss feeling wanted. I miss feeling needed. I miss the inside jokes that only could bring a smile to our faces. I miss our exclusive club. I miss late night hugs. I miss yearning. I miss wanting. I miss having. I miss ownership. I miss plans. I miss dates. I miss kisses hello. I miss kisses good-bye. I miss missing.
In saying that, I'm scared.
I'm scared because I've closed myself. I've shut down that wing of the factory. Its a part I don't identify with anymore and wouldn't even know how to begin reopening for business. I know how to be in the thick of it, I don't know how to get there. I don't know what its like to be mooshy and in love. I can remember a time when it was so easy to fall into that, but now when I look back, its one of the shams I beat myself up over. It simply doesn't fit me. I can't do it. I don't know how. I'm retarded in love. How to act, how to be, what to say, when to say it. I don't talk that language anymore. Its foreign and unknown. There is no manual, there is no guide. I would rather push a million people away than risk being hurt even an 1/8 of how I've been hurt in the past. I couldn't endure. I couldn't survive. The expectations too high. The risk too great. Alone I stay.
You may call that being a coward, I call that self preservation. Eventually it will change I'm sure, but until then, the doors are closed.
Knowing me in the flesh you would never assume these things of me. You would never know that I have my dark moments, then again everyone does I'm sure, its human nature I guess. But who doesn't contemplate the travesties in their life? I would like to meet someone who feels that every decision they have ever made has been the right one. They deserve the Nobel Prize if they can put into words how they've accomplished that very fortunate task.
Some of my friends and family don't understand why I've conciously decided to not actively pursue "dating" right now and why I don't want to remarry, or not have children. Some scoff and tell me that "my day will come" and I say these things out of hurt. But I don't think they understand the clairty that fills me knowing that right now, its about me and no one else.
So I don't find it so odd that I feel like an actor, flitting about showing people how strong and willed I am to not allow anything in this world to get me down, and for the most part its true. But I do wear many hats and put on many different faces because sometimes its just easier to give them what they want. Its a show and...... "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players."