I was given a book to read this week, by a friend. They thought it would be beneficial to my current circumstance, perhaps help me move forward with greater conviction and courage. To see the world anew, or to create a new one.
Attached to the cover, was a sticky note. Just a small blue piece of paper, tapped gently onto the top left hand corner, written neatly and purposefully. I stared at that little note for a while and put the book down. I picked it up again and read the note again, replaced the book on the counter, and went on. Finally I picked the book up and flipped it open. I only made it through the intro intact. The note read…’The red pill or the blue pill?’.
(For those not aware…”You take the blue pill, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.” The term redpill refers to a human that is aware of the true nature of the Matrix.)
On page 10, was the line ‘We’ve purposefully made the tone of this book humorous, to distract you from the very real and overwhelming feelings you’re having right now’.
Maybe they’re onto something, I might pick it up again, if I can. When I can.
You see, the problem isn’t with knowing or not knowing the actual truth, it’s in which truth you wish to know and believe, but still having to accept all of the truths simultaneously. And more importantly, applying your own truth to the mix.
I know that there is also truth to many of the words I am being told, including those I don’t want to hear. I know that I deserve more. I know this man is flawed and complicated, and largely untrustworthy. I knew those things all along (intuition is great isn’t it?). I know that he has caused me much heartache. But… I am in love with him, and also love him still, because I also know that people in general, and love itself is flawed and complicated. It was the risk I took, well aware of the consequences, yet still hoping that a better truth would prevail. That he too, might see hope in the truth.
He is the first person in my life that I have struggled, and persevered, and tolerated with, through all the problems. Somehow this, he, is different for me, than any other. That is what I can’t let go of. The undeniable connection I feel. He has made me a hopeless romantic. I don’t want to settle. He is my Fish. Yes, I understand what he has done, yes I know what you all see, and yes…I would rather spend a lifetime missing him, alone, than betray my own feelings. And perhaps I will, but at least I know it will be true. ‘Moving on’ is all well and good, and unavoidable. I will travel, and befriend, and experience, and live…but the experience will be that much poorer in comparison to what could have been.
To those that suggest I would be sacrificing my dignity and self respect, I say, it’s not a question of either of those. I am well aware of the situation, what I do and don’t deserve, but continue to ‘choose’ what I want, love and have passion for. If I am wrong to do so, it wouldn’t be the first time, but I’d rather be wrong than have regrets. Essentially, doing what I am told, what is expected, or what is ‘correct’, is itself, a sacrifice of a part of who I am.
Perhaps people who have never experienced this feeling, which starts unexpectedly in your stomach like butterflies, makes your whole body quiver with nervous anticipation, and smile foolishly when you see a person, makes you crave their touch (even when they are right next to you), and miss them uncontrollably when they are gone from sight, don’t know it even exists? I admit, I thought I knew what raw, true love felt like…until it really happened. And then I knew without a doubt that all other feelings, failed in comparison to what I felt for this man sitting right in front of me.
He makes me feel like too much, and not enough. He makes me want to be a better person, yet I like to believe he once loved me for who I already was. I admire who he is, despite and due to his duplicity, and his strengths, and yet I want to keep him safe, and show him that there is so much more to the world, and living, beside the right person…
I worry that I will live with the feeling of missing him always. I know I never stopped for the first ten years, and despite what he has now in the last few again, I miss him still. Some days are worse than others, and there are days when I almost feel nothing at all, but this is always there in my mind. In the silent moments, the loud ones, the funny ones…and when I turn to share or talk, love or smile…he is not here. I get this distinct moment of sadness each time in that realisation.
So, after major digression…the pages of this book are supposed to help. To help me proactively change the way I feel, and see the world. The stories of anothers struggle and victory, claim to be healing, and maybe they are, if only for the fact that they instil a sense of not being alone in the world. They will say I am not the only one to ever feel this way, and yet I know undoubtedly that I am. But, that said, words are powerful, a very special art form, and they can be used to hurt or heal. And some may resonate…
In a moment of drunken out-casting of inhibition I wrote this earlier in the week, and sent it to a friend. I reread it with my face in my palm the next morning, yet they claim to approve, so I will share it here, despite feelings of inadequacy to find the words to convey the depth of inspiration, and the primitive gushy, repetitive, romantic nature of it. You’ll just have to deal with those parts (and the typos are disgraceful-I know).
Don’t judge too harshly though, I rarely share my personal writings with anyone, and whatever inspired me to write it, might well bite. I am a harsher critic of my own, than you could all ever be collectively.
Always remember…Never judge another until you have walked a mile in their shoes. That way you are a mile away…and you have their shoes 😉