Do you ever ask yourself how you got to be where you are? What were the series of events that led up to now. If you would have been born somewhere else, with different parents, would things be any different? If you had loved more carefully would you be hurting less than now? I can’t help but think that when it comes to heartache, I’m the key cause of such pain. Sure, people have done legitimate things to hurt me, but I put myself in a position close enough for them to do so. Do I have regrets with my state of hurting? Sure I do. I don’t regret them all, but I do feel as if I’ve undergone a number of unnecessary pains. All hearts long to be connected to another’s. This is a natural, God made desire. But I think some of us seek that connection in a way that could be deemed “out of bounds”. I don’t regret loving anyone that I have, I just sometimes regret the means in which I chose to do so. When I look back at each relationship separately and think of the chapters as they occurred, I wish I could take back some choices I made along the way. I’m the type of person who loves with all or nothing, and I think there needs to be a sort of sacrificial action that takes place, but I’m realizing that I’m sacrificing my own well being in certain relationships. I desire to be loved deeply by another so desperately that I leave nothing to mystery. Many of my friends know that I try to have no secrets. I try to be an open book and I want what is seen to be a good read, but I think the life that this book is portraying is visibly shattered. There’s a lot of broken sentences, a lot of incorrect punctuation. Exclamation points where there should only be periods, as well as the other way around. This book is impossible to follow. Nothing makes since anymore. I’ve forgotten who the Author is. That’s a dangerous place to be. Sometimes I try to start a new book, realizing later that I can only start another chapter. I’ve looked back and been so discouraged that I’ve tried to forget what was written prior to now. History is a good thing though. History shows the progress from point A to B and then eventually to Z. Without history, there can be no future. What happened yesterday does not define tomorrow, but it does compliment it. Every great book has numerous stories of good times as well as bad. A story that stays the same lacks any appeal, and is completely unrealistic. My book is not fantasy, or a fairytale. It is real life. It is true. It will make you cry. It will make you laugh. There are chapters that will make you think you couldn’t possibly read any further, but then the title of the following chapter lures you in for another wild ride full of twists and turns. I remember when I was in school and I’d wait till the last minute to read the assigned text. What I would do is read the first chapter, middle few chapters, and last. I would read just enough to get by. I feel like I’m doing that with my own life. I’m just kind of skipping around and skimming a few lines here and there. That’s no way to live. I want to know me, I want to know the way the Author has built me to be. I know my weaknesses, but I only glance over my strengths. My weaknesses are not what makes me who I am. They may be a part of my design, but they’re not everything. I can’t put my life on hold just to see how everyone else’s pans out. My life is a gift. My story is a gift. I am a gift. While that doesn’t necessarily sooth the hurts that I’ve experienced, shouldn’t it in some way bring hope to the way this whole thing ends. While I feel as if I’m wandering aimlessly in the wilderness, every journey has a destination. The thing that makes that destination so sweet sometimes though is the steps it took to get there.
Am I learning? Yes. Is it difficult? Yes. Will I let that stop me? Not anymore. My heart aches for another, but that’s only because it’s not happy with the rhythm to which it’s beating. There’s a symphony in my chest. The instruments I’ve been given are good enough. Everything’s well tuned and performing to its top capacity. The music I’m making is enough. Situations in life can completely alter the mood or rhythm of the composition, but it still makes for good music. Having a broken heart isn’t always a bad thing. I’ve just learned how to settle. I’ve taught myself to assume that this is as good as things will get. I need to unlearn these discouraging tendencies. You can’t force love. Love freely finds you wherever you are, love is actually what holds you together. To take away love is to remove the ability to exist. Quit searching for the one thing that defines everything you are. “But I’m not good enough”. Love was never about finding those who are suitable, love is what makes you enough. The deserving aren’t guaranteed to receive. Love gives. Love sacrifices. Love meets you in your pain and leads the way through your healing. Love needs no reason. Love answers to no one. Love doesn’t explain itself. Love couldn’t explain itself if it had to. My heart is broken, but it’s that brokeness that allows me to love, and I’m not willing to trade that.