an essay on love?

ha ha hee hee--Pree-oz and the poLar just read a book called something like this blog title, i've had random angsty and strange feelings about this in the past week, and the Belgian boY, and i just e-chatted about this today.

the word love.
what the hell does it mean? i mean it's ~everywhere~. it's all up in the books we read, the movies we watch, the internet we surf. your ears catch it when just a passerby in a crowd. we joke about it or might casually have a discourse; we sometimes have deep conversations about it as well--with our acquaintances, our friends, our families, our 'lovers'. it's a mysterious and nebulous thing.

here are some of my thoughts.
i say i fall in love easily--i've said this on a few occasions in the past 10 months to my near and dear. in these months, my heart has had many encounters w/ it and has been filled more deeply than it had been for the past few years. sadly, my heart had been in a deadened state.
i'll admit it. i love to love and be loved and to show love. it's certainly one of those things that there is very often a greater return when you give it--always for me, i'd say.

i'm sure many of us can wrinkle our brows and think of instances where this does not seem true, but based upon how i understand love through my experiences, this is where i firmly stand on the issue.

so here's where some of the angst comes from. my ex has been rudely re-entering my consciousness a lot lately. a song or a conversation or simply a flittering thought about a completely unrelated topic will usher him in through the wide open door of my awareness. several months ago, i would immediately squelch thoughts of him and smoke a dozen cigarettes or drink too much or get really active doing something--anything.

but, as i alluded to before, i'm feeling more ready to look this monster in the face and see it for it really is. a marring wrinkle in my life history. devastating damage that cut deeply and threw me into a hurricane of identity issues and somewhat destructive behavior. but, i wasn't destroyed, nor crushed, nor left to despair. (thank you Jesus.) i've learned a lot about life and myself and what really is what when it comes down to how love applies to my person.

i estimate that the words "i love you" passed roughly around 10,000 times between my ex and i in the time that we were together. this seems incredible to me.
truly, what the fuck did that really mean to him? particularly about 10 months ago. he used those words and even communicated that w/ those bright green eyes of his the night just before he suddenly slammed me w/ the words: "i want a divorce".
this is not fiction.
it is this that kind of makes me crazy and worries me about how crazy he must actually be. and how crazy people must be in general. how can someone use such weighty words dishonestly, w/ all the history and significance behind them?
this is what i find more criminal about those ending days. the utter misuse of those words. using them to... what? to appease me? to lie to himself? to bide his time until he could seal the deal w/ his adulteress? was he using those words w/ me until she reciprocated? ugh. it's disgusting.

is it possible to be that out of touch w/ your emotions that you can use those words w/o feeling?--wouldn't that make you worried? honestly, it was making me a little worried for the last year of that marriage.

so love in this context. what did it mean?
did i still love him through all of busyness and the coldness? yes. definitely. i guess i think love is more than a rush of sweet warm feelings.
did i love him even when he was being hateful? sometimes, but this was incredibly difficult. it became a moment-by-moment choice i had to make.
do i still have some kind of love for him today and hope he gets a big hug from Jesus the moment after he breathes his last? absolutely. i even hope that other woman gets a big hug (after feeling a little ashamed for playing her messed up part in it all).

do i think he loved me? yes. i know he did. but obviously, i believe that shifted somewhere. at some point, he began using those words for his own extremely selfish ends. he used those words out of laziness or in order to obliterate any guilt/confusion he might have felt when i questioned him about our relationship or our sex life or our future. he must've felt really twisted and wrecked up in his denial that there was a problem.
rather than using those words to communicate what they actually meant, he used those words to defend himself from guilt, pain, and essentially, reality.
it is sad. very much so. for both of us.

at first, i wondered how i could possibly trust anyone again. it's scary and horrifying and unbelievable to say the least. i think i may always have some trouble really accepting those words in a romantic context--actually, i know i will struggle to accept any kind of nice thing that is said to me, romantically.
but, the outpouring of love that i received from God and from people since then has really repaired and rebuilt the meaning of this concept for me. i'm infinitely grateful for this and could not have imagined that this is where i'd be last summer.

that beautiful hot Chicago summer where i was a dessicated, curled up, broken wreck. not eating or sleeping, but crying a lot and screaming my frustrations out intermittently. the arms of my friends surrounded me and clasped me close and kissed my cheeks and held my hands. the once clear future had gotten very murky. not only was that a ragged cut to the core, that frightened the hell out of me.

but, here i am--only months later--on the other side of the planet. writing. working. reading. smoking. pretty happy. able to freely and deeply love people again. beginning to accept that i might be someone who is lovable.

two days ago, i was sitting w/ two friends at a Coffee Bean retelling a ridiculous story about the weekend. their eyes connected w/ mine. i know it's positively cliche to say, but i had them on the edge of their seats. their expressions were mirthful--anticipating my punchline. a twinge of joy. i love to make people laugh and love that they want to hear my stories.

five days ago, my friend called me at work in tears and asked me to find her outside of my office building. i raced outside w/ a piece of chocolate, tissues, and my smokes in hand. she agonized over certain awful life situations. i hugged her while she hid her whelming eyes behind her Coach sunglasses. this is a moment of soft comfort that we could share in each other. i talked a little about Jesus and His eternal comfort.
but mainly, i talked about the fact that, no matter how shitty things were getting, i would help her to see this one through. and probably the next one. and the one after that. it is a privilege and an honor to be this for someone.

my darlings.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails... [excerpts from I Corinthians 13]

there is more. much more. but i end this now before it gets too late.