I am ashamed of my cruelty. In that precious moment, there is nothing more hurtful that the words “I know”.
I couldn’t believe that I had inflicted it on him. He was precious and sweet and kind and loving. And he was brave. He looked at me, completely serious in his apology. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you. And all I could manage was “I know”. What a bitch.
The first time was a soul mate. We had had 4 passionate months. We met in a crowded room, our eyes met across various conversations and a board game – he looked at me and I felt completely seen. I felt complete. In the backseat of the car, veritable strangers, every inch of me longed for his touch.
When I left the first time it was supposed to be forever. I drove all day to the other side of the country. The next morning I headed back to him, I didn’t tell him. When I arrived there was a note on the door – ‘if my greatest desire has come true, welcome’.
4 months later I left again. The next day I called, told him “I love you”. He said “I know”.
Years later. He was a friend of a friend. They told him we were meeting at my place. I opened the door and saw his huge smile. He headed straight for my bookshelves and we talked literature. It was a done deal. A year later after yet another fight, tears streaming down my face, I said “I love you”. He replied “I know” and went into the other room to call ‘her.’
And now I was doing it to him. A different him. A him that I really wanted. A him that I loved more than anything or anyone I’d known. And that’s what scared me so much.
You might say trust issues. Yeah, that would make sense. Or just the feeling that I don’t want to try again, I’m doing okay by myself. So when he screwed up – yes, I know we all do – I assumed that was it, we were done.
But hear he was, not willing to give up. And here I was, being a bitch.
And of course being the opposite of what I truly wanted. Pushing away the truth of love. Letting fear take over.
Fear…here we go again.
Of being seen.
Of loving and losing
Of getting hurt
Of taking chances
Fear of really living.
In that moment, I realized the story I was telling myself. I had created all kinds excuses to ignore what I knew to be true, to protect myself.
And yet, I didn’t want to be protected any more. I wanted to be loved. And to love.
I’m so grateful that I caught the story before it caused real damage.
I turned to him
I’m so, so sorry.
At first he didn’t know what to say. You see he knew that it had hurt but he wasn’t sure why.
I’m so sorry that I said “I know”, it’s so cruel.
I went to him and hugged him.
I love you. I really love you.
I’ve come to see over the years that love is not conditional. It’s not mutual, it doesn’t need to be returned.
Love is a choice.
To love what is – because you choose to.
Not because it (or he/she) is perfect and loves you to.
Not because you have someone to share the mortgage with or to come home to at the end of the day.
Not because you are scared to be alone.
Not because he agrees with your politics and your beliefs
Not because she is beautiful.
Perhaps because there is no greater power.
Perhaps because life in love is so much better.
Perhaps because it is our natural state.
Imagine a world where there is no past, no future.
No trade, no negotiation
Just simply. Love.
Well, you’ve got it. That’s all there is.
Will you choose love?
Leave a comment below