In
response to my Mom’s fuming at the school for saying I needed
speech therapy in First Grade, our neighbor Lawrence said, “Hey,
you mumble and her dad stutters. It’s amazing she can speak at all.”
Even if they didn’t have those limitations, my parents discovered
new and more convoluted ways to not communicate with each other.
I’ve
been studying communication ever since. I’ve found too many times,
some people will hold my childhood background against me, as if I
were a fly encased in amber, as if we are each trapped in the past.
But we are not limited to our history. We can grow, change, develop.
I’ve finally realized that those who do this, don’t matter. Their
thoughts have no reflection and nothing to do with me. I’ve let go
and have gained peace within. I send the universe love, and hope they
will find their own ways out of their childhood traps, as I finally
have.
A
clear and present danger: That’s what my heart creates for me. I’ve
spent time alone, healing, growing, and finding arts of myself that I
didn’t know existed. Now that I’ve been on my own for over 10
years, I’m attempting to get out, meet people, and see if I can
connect wholly and wholeheartedly.
Yet
the world has changed since I originally dated in my twenties. People
are too compartmentalized, and most want to stay “safe” by just
being physical. Just having a physical relations just leaves me
unsettled, alienated. My soul and heart wants so much
more...something real, connective, respectful, and solid. A true
friendship, a meeting of minds, hearts and souls before bodies become
entwined.
So
my heart occasionally opens to someone who’s emotionally
unavailable, a man who’s just as unavailable as I. The universe
conspire to crack my heart open piece by piece, shattering a sliver
or corner sometimes.
I
am grateful and thankful to these men and these experiences. Each
tragicomic situation has formed and reshaped me. Each man has taught
me new lessons: what to accept (and not accept) from others, the
importance of self-honesty, the power of manifestation, the vitality
of touch. I’m learning how to communicate my wants and needs. Each
time, I can see more clearly what I really want in life, the type of
man who I’d want walking by my side. Most important, I’m learning
how to listen to my inner wisdom. This all has made me softer, more
open to life’s possibilities.
I
feel the heavy sting of my latest romantic disaster, and I has to
smile.
I
am a work in progress, messily human. This has been the first year I
love myself wholeheartedly.
Without
the clear and present danger of breaking my own heart, would I have
been able to otherwise?
