The Ugly Side of Love

You see it, a deep recessed cave, the ugly side of love.

Where the whirlwind of emotions take over and try to throw you away… again.

Where the train blows its whistle but your feet are planted firmly on the tracks… again.

Where the waves break so hard they pull you under… again.

You live here, just outside the reach of a broken heart.

You can hear it knocking… so loud, but you cover your ears because you think it can’t possibly be coming for you, you can’t possibly be the one it stopped everything for, you’re surely not worthy.

I want to be breathless and afraid.

I want to be torn and confused.

I want to be living so close to the edge that one false move will leave me tumbling down the hill towards the ugly side of love.

From this distance, you seem okay,

but the darkness of that cave hides the smile of your blushing cheeks.

“Come outside!”, it screams at you as you crouch down to make yourself small.

“Stop hiding!”, it bellows as you wrap your arms around your bent knees.

“It will be okay.”, it finally says and you look up, the fear leaving your body, tricking away and you reach for it, you don’t want to let it go so you grasp at it like a child trying to gather the mercury from a broken thermometer and you try…

You step away from the dark and you balance on that edge and then you jump and the smile on your face is so beautiful and you recognize the cliff you’re rolling down and it feels so soft and you know this is where you should be…

rolling down the messy, scary, ugly, beautiful side of love.

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Do you know me?

Do you know me?

Did you look around the grocery store and see me comparing prices and values and after much deliberation I put the store brand into my cart because it was nine cents cheaper?

Do you know me?

Did you see me sitting in the corner of the coffee shop surrounded by friends, laughing, drinking a much too hot latte on a cold October day as if I belonged there and not in the confines of my own lost mind worrying about how to pay the soon to come gas bill?

Do you know me?

Do you watch me jogging around the block in my designer shoes and my name brand running clothes because I fit into them perfectly and you’ll never know they came from the thrift store you never go in?

Do you know me?

Did you hear me cursing under my breath at the gas station when I realized I couldn’t fill up the tank because somewhere in the world men in suits are arguing over the price of my life?

Do you know me?

I’m the one screaming in the corner of my mind that’s reserved only for me and the voices that keep me sane. I’m the one smiling so big because if you knew how close I’ve come, how much it hurt, how long and steep this road has been… you would run away because you aren’t that strong.

I’m the one writing it all down.

Do you believe in me?

Did you know I believe in me more than you will, ever. I believe I can and I am. I believe the fire was burning so hot and all I wanted was to jump in with both feet… no hesitation. I believe I can move forward without looking back but I believe I need to know.

Do you believe in me?

Did you know I feel a rush of emotions, like I set myself on fire, each time I think about the time I spent thinking about all the things that are scattered across my mind?

Do you know you should believe in me?

Because I am taking a tiny light and I am setting myself on fire with it and you need to stick around when the flame starts to dwindle because I believe you can help me burn.

I believe in you.

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Many thanks to the poets at dverse for all their support!

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“…you love so hard.”

I spanked my oldest daughter when she was about 2 1/2 years old. She’s 14 now… I remember it well. She was having a terrible fit late at night and wouldn’t stay in her bed. She would not stop crying due to her not getting what she wanted at the time — a pop-tart. I warned her to stop many times. I counted to 3. I walked away. I ignored. I become frustrated at her screams and I spanked her. She stopped screaming but the look of disbelief on her face floored me. The look of distrust sent chills through my body.

I’m not opposed to spanking — you parent your way, I’ll parent mine. But, for me, I began to realize many things that could possibly be going through that 2 1/2 year olds mind. She was angry and I tried to stop her anger with a jolt of pain. She was upset and I tried to stop her from being upset with a jolt of pain. She was sad and I tried to stop her sad with a jolt of pain. It affected me deeply, still to this day. Love is complicated. Love is raw. Love is endearing and breathtaking and overcoming and welcoming and overbearing and needed — love is needed. But, love isn’t a jolt of pain.

I think I’ve been on a journey of self-discovery or on a path of self-evaluation or something that sounds really deep and zen and kumbaya. I’ve had friends tell me about their journey’s to self-evaluation and it truly seemed like they were enlightened and informed and better at life now for taking on such a journey. When I thought that I too could possibly have ventured down this path, I was really excited — really. I thought if I came out just half the person that my friend’s had come out of their journey then I would be complete and whole and loved and even better… liked. I actually think I am all of those things to a certain degree — perhaps not to the degree that I think is enough… in my un-enlightened mind.

I really like love. I’m not sure I love love but it’s safe to say that I really like it. I like the way it looks and I like the way it sounds and I like the way it feels and I like the way it comforts. I’ve always liked love a lot. I’ve loved in my life — I still love. My children, my parents, my brother and sisters and nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles and cousins and… you get the point. I have friends that I love, I know love. I’m not unaware of its allure — I usually opt to stay on the fringes of it though. Until I began this whole journey to self-discovery/self-evaluation — things change when you least expect them to. As of late I’ve loved fast and fierce and hard. A friend of mine left a comment here a few posts ago and she said, “…you love so hard.” I was confused at this statement for a bit. I reread the post and I reread the comment and it dawned on me that this person, who seemingly knows very little about me… knew me very well.

I love so hard because I know how it feels to love and be loved and what a wonderful feeling it is. I love so hard because it lives in me and in my life and in my house and in my children. I love so hard because I want the people I love to feel it, I want it to warm them. I love so hard because if I try to keep it all inside of me, I will burst with its joy. I love so hard because that is what matters — in this life, love matters.

I haven’t spanked my children since that time, so many years ago. I don’t coddle them or make excuses for them… they are often in need of discipline and I am often giving it to them — but, I don’t spank them. For me, it was like saying, “… you’re mad? Here’s some pain to go with that, how are you now?” I’m certain love should never be accompanied by pain… not pain we can avoid. So… I continue on my journey. I continue to figure out this life I lead. I continue to love and I expect love in return — I don’t think that’s too much to ask, because… I do love so hard.

I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love — Mother Teresa

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