There is a tapestry in my dad's room back home that says, "If you love something so much, let it go. If it comes back, it was meant to be. If it doesn't, it never was." I never understood this quote as a kid. I found a box turtle outside my house one time and had a great day with it. I named it Mr. Turtle, fed it lettuce, watched it move around in the confines of a Costco cardboard box, and was having a grand old time with him. Unfortunately, the time came when my parents made me release Mr. Turtle back into the wild of our front yard. I cried so much that day, I distinctly remember that. I was also 5 years old, so cut me some slack. The quote didn't make sense to me. I loved the turtle, and letting it go only made me sadder. So, why love things if you have to let them go, not knowing the fate of their return?
Here is the truth: relationships, dating, love, marriage -- it all scares the hell out of me. I do not like to cuddle. My idea of a condolence is a chaste pat on the back and a side hug. And it is not because I feel unworthy of love. It is because I feel incapable of loving.
In my early teens, I clung to my virginity and all of me that was untouched, using it as a barrier between myself and any intimate feelings that could reach me, and prayed that none would be able to filter through as long as I stayed distant with any and all in my life. I knew what they did to my friend -- crushes, boyfriends, hookups. I saw how they could make them feel for a second like they were the most special person on earth, and then like a fleeting hurricane, vanish, taking all that was good with it and leaving a disaster in its wake. I, by default, became one of them, too. I started caring about how I looked, how I acted, everything that made up my exterior was to showcase that I wanted to be liked. It wasn't just for boys, though, it was for girls, too, in that I wanted to look like I mattered and needed to fit in socially. I started skipping meals, counting calories, hating myself for every zit, every extra pound, anything that would make me less likeable, less desirable.
I was not always this way. I longed for things to be like how they were, when boys were gross, and it didn’t matter if you wore a ratty one-piece or a new bikini to a co-ed pool party. Being young and being naïve was part of being young, so it was fine that the only things that were important in life were small and petty. Maybe I am cynical because I have never been in love, or let myself try. I know that what love does can be beautiful, but it can also destroy.
I have what I like to call my "constants" in my life -- those are the ones that are a permanent part of me -- my parents, my sister, anyone related to me. I know that I always will love them. It is the non-constants I fear. I fear what is not permanent, which is why I think I enjoy traveling and aspire to travel as much as I can post-graduation. Spending the summer in London taught me that I like being in a new place, and then leaving before any social problems could surface. Not saying that there were going to be any problems, but in the event that they would, I would already have left them behind.
I feel selfish in that I know that people outside of my constants love me. And I care for them, truly. But love is hard to commit to, and I live by non-committal everything.
Most articles written are to answer questions that someone has, and is it written for the purpose that that one person out there will find relief in it, and will want the rest of the world to have this answer too, thus sharing said article over and over. I am not here to answer a question, or take a stance on something, or tell you how to behave a certain way. I am here, wired, stripped, asking the question:
How should I move forward?
