Growing Pains

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Growing Pains
I’m listening to Ryan Adam’s album “Love is Hell” and I can relate. I get it, with love, comes pain. What? My brain still gets pissed about this one. I’ve seen so many movies and listened to the catchy songs and read gorgeous stories about blissful love forever. (New idea: The Romantic Comedy/Fairytale Disclaimer Movement, gathering enough signatures to enforce a disclaimer: “What you are about to see/read is a fantasy. True love involves moments of wanting to die, sobbing on the floor of a slightly dirty bathroom, and fantasizing about gauging people’s eyes out with rusty forks, and then when you get through it, you choose to do it over and over again because ironically, it actually feels kind of good. These moments are not shown in the following piece of work you are about to experience.”) 

I think I’ve said this before but I’ve grown up thinking once you’ve found love, you have it, you get to keep it, it belongs to you and your life. Now that I’ve found Eli, I’m done, that’s it, my happiness and future family is guaranteed and what more could you want. I have been wanting to live with him for months and he brought it up as a desire of his the other day and I thought, oh my god, I’m getting what I want. Well, what do you know, I want more. I want to be in my life as its happening (meaning letting go of how I think it should be, and embracing how it is), and if I want that, then I have to make room for the moments that I’m not expecting, that I’m afraid to experience, that historically, I haven’t been comfortable around. I have to make room and expand. That’s what is painful. I’ve heard that if I jump off this cliff I’ll be okay, and I won’t truly know how deep the water goes until I jump myself. So, I’m going to continue to jump because I’d rather find out what I’m made of now than speculate on some woman I should be in the far unknown future.

A friend reminded me that the pain isn’t about anyone else. Eli isn’t doing anything to me when he flirts with another woman or expresses his desire. Other women aren’t damaging my relationship by expressing their attraction to my boyfriend. It’s easy to trick myself into playing the victim, how dare he hurt me, he’s supposed to only love ME. Blaming him or her, comparing myself to her, pulling on him with passive aggression and validating-seeking questions - none of it gets me closer to what I want. I want to be powerful and vulnerable no matter what anyone else is doing. I want to be myself and love everything about me in the face of fear and loss. I want to expand my heart a millimeter wider to love my desperation, my dependency, my naivety about love, my little girl who still wants to believe in fairytales, my inner lioness who wants a pack of cubs to guard with her life, my ruthless bitch who will tell you exactly what she’s thinking, my sex diva, my powerhouse business woman, my scared soft animal who is still figuring all this stuff out as she goes along. 

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