“A man won’t chase a weak woman. A man will only chase a strong woman”
This is what I got told tonight. And you know what?…I totally get this. The appeal of a strong, secure man or woman is obvious. Someone who is self assured and independent is undeniably attractive. That they can have weathered everything the world has thrown at them, and come out the other side with an air of dignity and self worth, is an admirable quality.
But…what if the very reason that you are now insecure and ashamed of yourself, is because of the person you love?
Now, I hear some of you say, why would someone that loves you make you feel this way? and others I see nod in agreement. And the answer is *drum roll*… I have no fucking idea. The reason for this, is because I would never do it, so I don’t understand. I don’t know. To me, Love is love, and if you love someone, that’s what you do…love them. You do whatever it takes to make them feel loved and worthy and whole and as amazing as you know they are.
Maybe I have my finger on the pulse more than I realise? Maybe it is as simple as the above, and love is what is actually missing from the equation, or maybe it is the other, where the person in reference just really doesn’t know how to correctly apply love to a situation. Either way, love is not displayed by lies and deceit. And that’s where the insecurity comes into play…
They say we are supposed to hold our heads high. To shrug off hardships and soldier through. To love ourselves and be strong and independent. But after years of disappointment and rejection, loss and fighting…there comes a point where a person just loses their fight. The passion, the energy…it just runs out. We give up. And that doesn’t make us weak, it just means that we have reached the limit of emotional pain we are willing to endure. It means that we can no longer see past the curtain to where hope used to be, however thinly veiled. Even with promises, we just ‘literally can’t even’ any more.
This point, when you reach it, feels so much like the end. Giving up. And for some it is. When there is no more purpose, nothing to look forward to, why? Just why? And almost harder to bear, is that, that is totally up to us. We have to make the why. We have never been given the why. We have always been in charge of making the why for ourselves, and then making it a reality. But when you’re out of energy from a fight…you have nothing left to construct yourself yet another why. So, you are left there in this barren wasteland of heartbreak and hurt and blurry days, wondering if you’ll ever have that spark of passion in you to find another why and pursue it.
And you hate. You hate everything except the one that hurt you. You hate everyone else for being right, or for being wrong, or for just being. You hate yourself and everything you do. You hate drivers, and walkers, and rude people, and happy people, and awful people. You hate people that have what they want, and the weather and weekends. You hate rainy days and memories and dreams. You hate yourself for not being enough. You just harbour such hate for a world that hates you.
And we are told to be strong, because ‘nobody chases a weak woman’. Nobody loves you if you don’t love yourself…
In a world where we are cheated, lied to, beaten, raped, hurt, instilled with guilt and punished for doing the right thing in so many cases, we are then told to be strong and endure. You can do this. You are better than that. You will be fine. You have always been strong before. You got this.
I don’t. I don’t ‘have this’. What I have is…nothing. I got nothing. After years of hope and future dreams, all shattered in a day, a week, a month, and finally a photograph, I have no fight, no hope, and no plan. What I do have is this slowly settling fog which assures to keep me warm and safe until I can leave the house without fear of hurting someone else. I have my two beautiful dogs who keep looking at me with pain and empathy in their eyes. I have alcohol and coffee, and enough food to see me through the first few foggy days, sort of. And past that…I don’t know. But what I don’t have is ‘this’. Not in the slightest.
Neither do I have any understanding of how one person can do this to another if love was ever in the mix. I don’t have that. I’m glad I don’t understand. Maybe it means my heart, whilst shattered on the floor, still beats with human blood. I have always led my life by my heart, and if doing so makes me weak, then so be it. I can’t change that.
I just won’t be giving it to anyone else to step on ever again. I’m done.
Goodnight Kids, take care.