Friends, Romans, Countrymen... vs. What is Love?
This year has been all about trying to be OK with the other person not hearing my thoughts about our falling outs - BlueShe's right, so right. The year before was all about me learning to speak my mind, to give my words to the other party, to gift them the choice of how to handle my message. Relationships fall apart because of words not said, so goes the saw.
Only they don't, do they? They don't want to know. And that is the choice meant to be offered in the traditional wisdom. If you love somebody, tell them. Only don't, because they aren't prepared to accept the sentiment without having an approved box in which to store it. They aren't ready to let it wander free.
So I've receded. Again. I dislike this very much.
Tell people you love them in the same way you point out that it's a mourning-dove there on the wire we can hear mourning. The same way you offer someone the last bit of your favourite sandwich and then throw it away because you're both satiated. The same way air leaves a balloon when you let go instead of tying off. You're supposed to let go, and not expect it back.
Love is a sandwich, to be eaten and moved...you get the idea. Love should be the same as breathing, with the difference being that our society has placed rules on whom can be loved, and how, and how much*...
Those rules are meant for lust. Our society is too young to know the difference.
We're on the cusp of a new year - a new decade, in fact. 2020 will see me more dedicated than ever to my poet's heart, as well as my farmer's heart and the one that does the grieving and calculating. We're in this together, my triplicate heart and I. I'm okay with couching all my sentiments in poetry, because there the truth is closer to the form it takes in my mind. And it's fair that only the people who can understand it should be offered the option.
Maybe the best answer is in the receiving: recognise what someone gives you - words, a memory, an experience, a sandwich - as their version of love. If I love you, I love you for what I see in you, and if you want to know I'll tell you, but henceforth only if you ask. If you know me, you know I will tell you everything.
If I love you once, I love you forever, with very few exceptions. Two. You know who you are.
*God of Small Things - Arundhati Roy Thanks and props to Arundhati Roy for the phrasing of our social conundrum of love. This phrase is one of many quotable quotes in that book. I've only read it once because I remember it all and it's just too heartbreaking to read it twice.
[ Self-Test ] Could You Have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria? I have, and I'm pleased to report that I've learned to manage it over the years. Please feel free to call me crazy all you want. I know which parts of my crazy are scaring you.