It's been a while.
It's my second week off of school and I've been keeping busy catching up on some things, seeing family and friends, and starting new projects. I guess you could say I've been limiting my computer time as well and spending more time outside (never a bad thing!). I've also been struggling with inspiration for posts - however today I stumbled across a song that I have to talk about -
or rather, ask you to listen to before reading the rest of this post.
I apologize ahead of time if this sounds a little less chipper than usual - It's not that I'm not happy!
I'm just feeling lethargic and pensive right now. It's actually quite peaceful.
(I've also had several cups of chamomile tea so this may have something to do with this).
This was also a really hard post for me to write, so bear with me.
The song is called Half Life by Imogen Heap - an artist I fell in love with when I first heard them on
The O.C. (Side note: I also fell in love with Seth Cohen at this time).
It's about unrequited love.
One of the most tragic and beautiful things in life.
Why am I writing about unrequited love?
Because I know I've had it. And I know you've had it.
We have that in common. So let's get personal.
Last year I went through the hardest thing I've ever gone through in my life.
No, nobody died (Thank Goodness) but I suppose in a way, I did.
How?
I fell in love.
It wasn't planned. We weren't even together long.
We were back and forth a lot (which wasn't healthy).
He was young and I was young, too.
Before him, I thought I knew what love was.
I had been in relationships before.
I thought I knew who I was and how to love and what I wanted.
But I was wrong about all of it.
I guess it's the first time I ever let another person into my heart.
It's the first time I felt comfortable, really comfortable with someone.
It's the first time I wanted to do everything with someone else - even if it was just sitting in silence or arguing.
It's the first time that I wanted to share my morning face with someone
or the way I look like a dog left in the rain after a shower (seriously, I do).
It's the first time I felt I could openly do gross things around someone.
It's the first time I was comfortable to sing around someone.
Dance with someone - in public, without music.
Laugh without holding back (even though I most likely sounded like a dying horse).
It's the first time I seriously introduced someone to my family.
It's the first time I let someone see me ugly cry.
It was many firsts.
Most importantly, it's the first time I really put someone else's needs and happiness before mine.
So much so, that I lost myself.
I sacrificed too much without getting enough in return.
I was putting in way more than I was getting back and it was emotionally and spiritually draining.
It lowered my self-esteem and made me hate myself for a long time because it seemed that no matter what I did, I couldn't make him love me the way I felt I should be loved. The way that I loved him.
Not that he didn't love me. I know he did, just not enough.
But that's the thing about love.
It's the hardest thing you'll ever do.
Love requires courage and patience and strength.
It requires dedication and communication and generosity.
It requires time to grow and time to accept.
Love is hard work.
It requires sacrifice and struggle.
Love is not convenient.
It doesn't always happen when you want or the way you expect it.
Love hurts.
It's full of disappointment and heartache.
So much that sometimes you feel physically disabled from the weight of it.
And it's also the most beautiful and powerful force in the world.
And not everybody is always ready for that.
And not everybody will love in the same way or the way you expect.
And sometimes you learn that on the way, like I did.
While it was the worst experience of my life thus far, it was also one of the best.
I learned just how much I am capable of loving.
Not just other people, but myself (see previous post about self-love here).
I have seen, even if only a glimpse, of how beautiful real love can be and I believe that it is worth the pain, the struggle, the heartache and the disappointment.
I've experienced it all first-hand and I am still alive. I survived the war.
It wasn't just a war with him or about us. It was a war with myself.
Choosing myself.
Accepting myself.
Loving myself.
We can't expect other people to do this for us. To complete us. To make us happy.
We must first make ourselves happy and then share that with someone else.
It's so easy to lose yourself in someone else - but just as loving them is a choice, loving yourself is a choice and it must come first. It's been a long and hard journey to learn and accept this - in fact, it's something I'm still working on.
But after all of that, I think now I truly know who I am, what I want and how to love.
I'm actually quite grateful for that.
xoxo
Brittany
