When you’re not looking or expecting or even believing in anything anymore.
You are aimlessly thumbing through Tinder in a jaded distant fashion and you see someone’s picture and you just know to check them out. You like them. And a few days later they like you back. You hesitantly start a conversation, not really hoping for anything anymore.
And you find connection. You make a plan for a date. It starts out shyly and then before you really know it, you’re spilling some of your deepest secrets and your deepest pain and your deepest desires. You’re still holding back so much but you realize this person…this person sees you. And you feel safe and like they are safe to share the rest of your deepest parts with. Something sparks in you and Pandora’s box opens up to release all of the bad inside you and hope flits out hesitantly.
Hope isn’t something you recognize at all anymore. Well…I guess that’s not true. You recognize it, but you are terrified of it. Terrified of hurting again. Terrified of trying again. Terrified of feeling again.
And yet. You let go.
Slowly at first. Shyly. Quietly. And something beautiful begins to unfold. You start to realize that all of these stories and bad dates were leading up to a release from someone who would hold your pain and be the aloe for all of those burns. The pain slowly fades as you discover that there really do exist people who let your past be your past and don’t judge all the bad and weird and exploratory decisions you made.
Slowly you realize that this person isn’t going to land in this blog as one of the eyeroll or laugh out loud crazy stories. You promise them early on that they won’t be one of those stories–because you know early on that they won’t be. You hope that one day you’ll be writing this very post.
The post to close the chapter on reliving past moments that, while hilarious, are tied up with pain and rejection.
This blog has been one of the most freeing things I have ever done. To publicly share intimate moments. To publicly share vulnerability. To publicly share loss and rejection.
To publicly share hope.
My friends, it’s time to hand the reins over. These stories are all out there. Well…ish. There are some stories that really cannot be made light of. They are just painful and should be walked away from. They don’t deserve the light of day. Because when other people put their pain on you and you make it yours, it just needs to be released. Bear that in mind: if someone is putting accusations on you, it’s almost guaranteed to be them talking to themselves. Walk away from that sooner than I did. But if you don’t, I only hope you meet someone like I have who eases that burden and pain.
I wish you all the best in your ventures. I wish you all the best in finding your person. The unicorns along the way will light your path and keep your fire alive. Because, for me, it turns out that my person isn’t a unicorn at all. She’s ethereal, it’s true, but she’s also too real to be a unicorn. She is my present and she keeps me present. Look for that. Look for the person who you feel safe being seen by. Look for the person who you feel safe being the truest form of yourself in front of. Look for the person who makes you laugh, holds you when you cry, and is the person who flashes through your mind when you have a serious accident and think it may be the last breath you take. Because that person, when you survive that bad accident, will be the one who will hold you together and not let all of your pieces even think of falling apart. And they will make you feel, for the first time in your life, like you are beautiful and worthy of love.
You are worthy. You are all worthy.
And I pinky swear promise that if you can just claw onto that all and keep from spiraling and giving up and settling, you’ll find your person. You’ll find yourself not even caring or angsting over how long it’ll last–you’ll be present.
And it will all be as easy to move through as all of those jerks who have found their person say it is.