Why Is Love Not Enough?

I chose pink. Pink is the color of love. Pink is the color of Shelby Eatonton of Steel Magnolias--her 'signature color' to be precise. Pink is the color of the heart chakra.

For whatever your beliefs are, leave them at the doorstep here as you may find it difficult to afford predjudices of such nature at this blog. Here, all religions are welcome as are all schools of thought, theology and the divine. I embrace many cultures and many of God's messages as they flow into my life masquerading as many denominations and/or factions under the spiritual sun.

My heart chakras, so I have been told, are far too open, allowing me to freely and openly express what is in my heart so much that it is not censored by my head or my mind and at times may over-power or overwhelm others. How was I to know? I am, unfortunately, the only individual that I can be---ME. I realize that with time and effort come filters and responses, not just reactions and unrated conversations. I honestly never thought that I was doing anything wrong here. Isn't it freedom of speech? Are we not taught to always speak with our hearts and always be honest? Well, I thought that is what I was doing.

For over three years now, I have known a man who has changed my life profoundly. When I met him, I was on top of my game (so to speak): I was a resident in pharmacy, owned a home, was making great money at the start of my career, was vivacious and beautiful and most of all I was POWERFUL. It seemed, at the time, that I could have anything that I wanted be it material, academic or homo sapien. I felt amazing. Enter: G. (I will refer to him as this throughout this entry so as to protect the innocent. I would never, should he or anyone he knows read this, to feel implicated, alienated or scrutinized.) After all, we are all friends here.

G came into my life at the apex of this period. We met unconventionally, however this never bothered me for a moment. A little suspect of his position, I made some slight requests which he obliged and before I knew it, we were off to the races. From the first day I met him, I was enchanted, enamored and smitten. This is the kind of syrupy crap that love stories are derived from, in essence. Things may have been 'nothing special' to anyone else, but I felt this way. From the first moment I heard his voice to the first moment I saw him, the feelings intensified. He was witty, charming, responsive, sensitive, honest and most importantly, appeared to be amazed by me. At the time, I felt that he was 'it'...and what perfect timing! Had I not waited long enough?

I suppose that things continued on as they were for a few months, plans were made, arrangements taking place until one day my life simply s-h-a-t-t-e-r-e-d. Iiiiiiinto roughly 5,000 pieces, some of them I am still attempting to reclaim. As for G, he seemed to have given it his best shot. Hell, I know I did. What ensued (as the empire crumbled) was a string of vicious, malicious, slanderous and curse-word laden conversations and fights. Yes, all of those things that you say when you are terrified, desperate and hurt and don't really mean---Said them. All of those ridiculous things that some unhealthy people do to get attention or block the door from their lover leaving---Did them. I am not removing all of the blame from his shoulders and resting it on mine, please don't get the wrong idea. In retrospect, I now see the errors of many of my ways. Wishing, wishing and wishing that I could take it back. Who was that wretched girl? I had never seen her in my life before those days, but she came for a visit and stayed for a while. In her aftermath, she left an emotionally distraught head, a tremendously broken heart and one unsalvageable relationship.

This year, in the beginnings of my searching, I have forced myself to look at the ugliness that is within me. I have had to say sorry to many people, apologize for my misgivings, my shortcomings, my rudeness, my ugly behaviors and most of all my destruction. The one person I feel that I have tried to perform this same act of apologetic mastery with is G. Unlike alllllll of the others, it seems, the wounds run too deep and the scars are to painful to look at. Maybe I am wrong, I don't know. Maybe it was a fantasy. Could have been. Maybe it is the perfect entry for 'He's Just Not That Into You'---totally possible.

What I know, from the bottom of my heart, is that I love him. I always have loved him. In many ways, he never left me. I would move, I would date, I would start a new beginning and there would always be that day where my thoughts would turn to him. From the dark corners of my mind, would float out the balloon of a memory. Maybe that makes me crazy, co-dependent, a whacko, an 'obsessive lover' as some would call it. I think of it as too many things to sum it up in one reason.

For three years I have gone from losing contact with G, to gaining it again. I forget whom is the initiator---it really does not matter. No matter how far along I get, he pops up again. I have no one to blame but myself for this for I let it happen. I simply cannot stay away. Once speaking again, we play the game for a bit, volley back and forth, try a visit or so; no matter how many times we have played the game we end up right back where we are: HERE.

Today I write this after coming to a conclusion: love, this go-round, is simply not enough. If he were ever to read this (doubtful that he would), he would see my heart on this screen, stretched to every corner of the monitor and on display for every follower and complete stranger who stumbles across this blog and sits down to take in the words. I saw him not long ago for a brief time (always expecting something magnificent to take place when I do) and he was as dashing as ever, the apple of my eye. I found him no less charming, no less handsome and no less unique than the day I saw him in Chicago. For months we have talked, though brief it usually is, and I realize everyday that I am still in love with this person. I know not why and I suppose it is none of my business (the insides of someone else's heart and head), but he does not open to me the same way. We are not the same. We are not lovers anymore. Game over.

This time around I really did show my softer side. I really did try not to 'rock the boat'. Sometimes, I have finally begun to realize, love is not enough. Wherever he is in his life, he is not here with me, ready to come forward. I mean, I guess that is my best conclusion. I have given G all that I have and yet I stand alone, weeping, aching, tired. I used to be the type of person who thought she could always do more, do better, BE better so that things could stay afloat. I just turned my back on a job where I was not supported and that hurt. It hurt like hell. What hurts more? Having to turn your back on a man you love---to the bottom of your soul.

Maybe it could happen. Maybe. Someday. If this or if that. Maybe not. One of the hardest things about being sober is really having to feel feelings. No drink this time. No help. No crutch. No potion to take the pain away. I get to do this one solo. It's a one-man job. Whatever happens, I guess I'll still see those balloons float by. I suppose I can grab for one, or just let it float away. No one knows what will happen tomorrow.