This blog got me thinking:
Do you prefer to Love or to be Loved?
Me? I’m a Lover. Why? It’s simple. I’m a coward. It’s easier to Love. It’s far simpler for me to give Love. What? It’s true. As long as I’m giving of my Love than the focus is on the individual who is receiving the Love … not me….
to truly allow someone to Love you all barriers have to be dropped. Walls must be broken down. You must allow yourself to be vulnerable. I detest my vulnerability. Again, I am a coward. I don’t like to let people in. I am worn out. I am tired. I am jaded. I have been hurt one too many times. I have misjudged what Love really is one too many times. Ultimately, my inability to let those who would Love me into the deepest core of my being will result in my loss. Who knows what I will miss because I allowed myself to be caught in the ‘Illusion of Love’ too often.
Wow. Powerful stuff.
I don’t think one can find themselves in the unrequited love position as many times as I’ve told myself I’ve been caught in it without more than a little of this being true. The lover, like the pursuer in the cat and mouse game, is the giver. Who finds joy in giving, pleasure in giving, even catharsis in giving. But who does not risk becoming dependent, does not dare break someone else’s heart, and can always find more within themselves. The giver, like a mother with a child, is always in the superior power position, if we must think of it that way. Sure, they become vulnerable by admitting their love, but they are not hurt when it is not received, because their love is not about being loved back. It is about admiration of the object.
It’s hard to find oneself lovable. It’s hard to let someone see all your scars, all your acne marks, all the discolorations of your sensitive skin, all the really difficult stuff surrounding your heart. It’s hard to let somebody see that sometimes, the past still hurts. It’s hard to go from self-sufficient and autonomous, un-needy, un-clingy, un-attached, to just a mewling ball of soft, unprotected, feelings, already moist with tears of pure emotion. It’s hard to feel the joy of being loved, when you are afraid to come to depend on it.
Loving is a vulnerable act, but it is more of a heroic one. But to let someone come to rescue you from the tallest tower, and save you from some dragons, carrying you through the flames and riding off into the sunset, that makes your heart skip a beat for a reason. Because it is darn scary. It is darn scary to let someone love you like that, and to be bound to them by need (yes need), and want.
To let yourself be wanted, to take down your walls for the gaze of the other, to let yourself be seen, loved, admired, touched…
It is agony and ecstasy, not of unrequited love but of o, so much energy coming to you from the other person. As though you will explode with it, and become a shooting star. That might be someone you would really hitch your star to…