{She.
The perfect night to begin the chapters of the rest of my life. The perfect season to venture into newness. Time had passed, I was not waiting on anyone except my own confidence to guide me through the next few years. I have the stars to keep me company, enough love in my life to enthuse my human need and the court yard at number three with its cushions and French music to inspire my soul. Who am I waiting on? Well, quite frankly my own esteem. I, the great dramatist of life was confident and admiring. Sassy an untouchable artist, nobody had ever questioned it. Until him. Who really knows at eighteen? I had thought that he was what I wanted. Thought that he would be the only man to fill that place in my heart. Then I remembered her, She. She, everything that I dreamed I could be, everything that I admired and thought beautiful. Some sort of French goddess was she. I was seven, well actually I wasn’t - but seven was the best year of my childhood so I imagine when I met her I was seven. I imagine every good thing that happened in my childhood to have been in those three hundred and sixty five days. That year of perfection.
My family were on vacation somewhere, I think it was a saucy little weekend away for my parents – I can only remember the rain on the windows of the hotel and colouring in books with my sister in the hallways. And she, I remember she. SHE wore a black and white polka dot dress, graced to her knee with frills somewhere, just like all classic beauties have frills. She smiled every time she saw us. Had this grace, as if she touched heaven every time she smiled that generous smile of Paris rouge. I don’t remember her name, how could I – I wasn’t even Seven. But I remember her, the epitome of who she was. Who I longed to be. Who I knew I was. Unmarried. Happy. Successful. Beautiful.
I had been, since a little girl inspired to love like the movies, dance like the stars and sing like the angels. I couldn’t help that innate desire and longing for connection, to wear beautiful clothes, paint my fingernails and drape lime green scarves across my hair as if I were a 1940’s movie star in one of those sexy Cadillac cars. I couldn’t help but believe that someone, someone other than a best friend, someone other than my sister, that someone, some man would one day make my heart flutter and ask me to be his wife. Well just how could I fulfil my life’s purpose without one of those?
The issue with falling in love so young is that you imagine knowing everything about life. Think you can see the future because you experience this developed emotion called love. That four-letter word. The word that now disarms me, confuses me and exhausts me. L.O.V.E. so cliché, so demure at eighteen. Why couldn’t I just fall in love with life? In the teen years, you just can’t get enough of life, I thought I had something to prove, to do in this great World, to accomplish some great feat.
Who tells us these tales anyways? That to be successful, you must be married? It was never a spoken suggestion that we could only be fulfilled as individuals in the role of a wife, but this intimation is bred within our heart’s longing from youth. We desire to be connected; to be loved and love in return – but does this one love equate to contentment and happily ever after? There is absolutely nothing wrong with love, wanting to be loved or needing it for that matter. We have been created to love, but my question is – does our purpose only equate to being married? Does the lack of a sparkling rock on my wedding finger mean that I am unsuccessful?
Setting Sail
I had known. I had known the whole time. I knew that something was wrong, it just didn’t add up like my fairy tale. Some being had whispered to me in my sleep that it wasn’t right – but however I tried I couldn’t figure it out. I couldn’t imagine my life without him - but I also knew I couldn’t live my life without She. The person I knew I had been created for. She. Lovely. Beautiful. Adorable. Compassionate and passionate. She.
I wasn’t trying to become the French Goddess I had witnessed in my childhood. I wasn’t aiming at catching someone else’s falling star. I wanted my own. Eager and fervent for my dreams to be real, I had to let go of not being his. Not belonging to the ‘idea’ of love that I had imagined for so many years. I had to let go of my ideals – and figure out that he just wasn’t my ideal. Ideal for someone, but not for me. Taking capture of my soul, that wilting lifeless being – she was bound for home. I needed to nurture what I had left and let it live. Truly live. Comparison had to be the only funeral I was attending. I would only dress in that shade once more. There was a world waiting, a destiny in some foreign land and I was not going to miss my boat this second time around. So I set sail.
I decided to fall in love.
Fall head over heels with life.
I would refuse at all costs to listen to those brain waves that told me I needed to be the object of one’s affection. The course I was setting was completely new territory, unguarded, uncultivated and completely mine. Just the thought of what could happen was enough to give up, the thought of being a spinster for all my days, or that somehow I would never be needed – wanted – loved. I knew that deep down I still wanted relationship, but now with the life lesson I had acquired I wasn’t going to turn back and ruin my life by marrying someone I loved, but couldn’t live the rest of my life with. Nor was I going to dip into the waters of anything remotely new, not until I had adventured and loved this life alone. Setting Sail. There are some muscles that can only grow with time, I didn’t know then that this would be the next lesson.
Comparison
The beginning was deciding. Deciding. Making that step to no longer be reliant on someone to fill my heart with flutters and ecstasy. It was great. My emotional energy could be spent on creating, writing, loving and anything but enduring. I was relieved and woke up each morning smiling and thanking the Lord above for every breath, every moment and every laugh that now seemed so much tastier and full of flavour than before. My daily bread was not the joy of this new life, well not longer than a week at least, but truth became my mantra for life. I wanted truth, wanted honesty and desired it more than anything. It was the most exhilarating and dehydrating adventure. I didn’t expect it to look like this, but as much as my muscles ached – I knew that I was growing, and that I would come out stronger. Friendships had been amputated, severed, crushed. I needed new believers. Those who could only exist through heaven breathed prayers coming to life. The friends I sought were not those who would be comparing my life, or accusing me. They would be those who would accept me, appreciate, honour and love me. All we need is love. Is it that hard to be loved? Are we just that unlovable? Could I go on loving, adoring and cheering on those sisters that he had made my enemy? Yes. It was that easy. Just deciding that I would love – passionately, deeply and extravagantly like I had always wanted. I realized quite quickly that this decision was easy, I would ask to see people in the way of love. I would people watch for hours… falling in love with them as though they tangibly held a piece of my heart. Understanding body language, connotations in speech and eye contact. I figured out quite rapidly that we all feel and fear the same, but comparison – the fear that we are not that truly beautiful, not wanted, nor loved, nor needed – that this leads us to compare and scare ourselves away from being vulnerable, loved and honest. Yet what I truly desire is to be vulnerable, loved and honest. Even if it hurts me, I want to be a lover. I want my heart to be filled with such divinity.
This all got me to thinking about who I really am. What I really wanted. I felt more comfortable in my skin, I realized that even though I couldn’t please people, I could be pleased with life. I wasn’t going to compare myself, the tragedy of this whole experience only showed me that it is impossible to live as someone other than myself. Setting sail led me to the vast oceans, I had choice. I had promise. I held the compass. Goodness, I'm exhausted already... }
