Love is...
Well, love has been focussed for a long time on my family. My dependable, quirky dad, my intelligent and caring brothers and sister, my beautiful, funny nieces, and the in-laws I have the privilege to have in my life. My love for them is endless, unshakable and ridiculously happy.
When I embarked on Tell Someone Special (see last post) my focus for my thoughts on 'Love Is...' was entirely about my family but especially my dad. I did this on purpose because I knew that if I focussed on romantic love, that ultimately my time on the project would become tainted with pain and self-doubt, with regrets and sadness. So with this, at least, I can keep my happy memories close.
As I sit here in the cafe overlooking Stewart Park, I watch the world go by and I hear the happiness in the chatter of countless strangers behind me. Behind? Yes. I chose a table in the corner of the room and here I sit with my back to the world, blocking out those who can reach me. To sit facing the glass, watching people down below strolling with their families and their dogs is easy. It's detached and impersonal. And in this room with my rapidly cooling latte I choose to turn my back on the world.
I do this a lot. Not specifically here in this cafe, but every day and everywhere. I have a mask that, like my mum, is always painted on before I leave the house, though I'm sure hers was fuelled by vanity. Mine is that deep breath you take to stop you falling apart, it's strength to face the world. Rarely do I talk about my real problems with anyone, they stay buried and I deal with them. I don't have anyone to unload onto when I come home, and when I was living with dad it felt wrong to burden him. I've learned over the years how to rely on myself and just keep going.
And then there are moments like this when I put on my mask and I try to face the world. Blow away the cobwebs. Regain some perspective. It's not easy, but it is necessary.
The sun is shining.
I woke up this morning.
I'm (reasonably) healthy.
I have a gorgeous family.
I can keep a roof over my head and food on the table.
I can see the blossom on the trees and I can smell the flowers.
I can hear people's chatter and laughter (even if I don't want to face them).
These things and so much more are my perspective and my sanity. I pick myself up off the floor, dust myself down and I face the world while trying to smile. If I smile before I mean it now, perhaps the next time I smile I'm doing it because I'm happy. Smiles have a habit of making us feel better before we even think about it.
My coffee's cold now but I don't mind. I can see a little girl pushing her little brother or sister in their pram, a dad feeding the birds with his daughter and dogs joyfully wagging their tales despite being held back by leads.
The sun is indeed shining, and all will be well with the world once again, and soon.
This post is indulgent, I know. It's not meant to do anything but remind me (and maybe one or two of you reading it) that life is good, precious and full of hope. We all have moments of heartache and pain. We all suffer at the hands of another person, and more often at our very own hands. We are our own worst enemy, but we can also be our own best friend when we allow it to happen.
Yesterday someone I thought wouldn't hurt me anymore went and broke my heart again.
It's ok. I am more than I show to the world and I am stronger than I let myself believe. I have no choice but to continue to smile and live, and find happiness wherever I can.
Yesterday someone I thought wouldn't hurt me anymore went and broke my heart again.
He won't do it again.
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Update 22 April 2014:
This was once a symbol of hope and love. A single red rosebud that was part of a beautiful bouquet unexpectedly received on Valentines Day a few years ago. I kept it all this time. Now purposely destroyed. Cathartic. Difficult. Necessary.
Sometimes the smallest changes have the biggest impact.
X
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