A friend with a grossly underused philosophy degree recently riddled me this:
“Do you think that maybe you choose guys that have some kind of difficulty because it reaffirms the idea that you don’t deserve love?”
Blown away was an understatement. I was floored and dismantled and torn asunder…rent from my very foundations. Truly shaken I reread these words over and over again, willing them to make less sense to me…begging them to speak less truth. But alas, they did not. Truer words perhaps were never spoken with such brilliant clarity. This simple question gave credence so many unanswered prayers.
I tend to pick men with a myriad of problems; be they geographical (typically the easiest and also the most difficult to combat), fetishistic, obsessive, compulsive, distant, broken…you name it, I’ve entertained it. They are beautiful, charming, funny, driven, artsy, musical, talented, and so very much more. They are flawed, as we all are…but are their demons insurmountable? Can they not be tamed? Would I even want them to be, could such a change be possible?
I love them as they are…but what of me?
I don’t deserve love. Something inside me believes this to an extent.
Much of these painful ruminations stem from my father, as he was the driving factor in my mental and emotional issues. Though no one man deserves all of the credit, there is a gaping hole in my heart where a father’s love should’ve been. I was told that I was worthless, and useless and would one day amount to nothing. My father even went so far as to tell me he hated me and that he wished I was never born. He abused me emotionally, mentally, and physically on a daily basis and though I persevered, and was able to thrive within such a hostile environment, I am still forced to bare the invisible scars of my youth. So therein lies my struggle.
I do not tell you these things, dear reader, to gain your pity. I am by far the strongest person I know because of the trials and tribulations I have endured. I am resilient, and beautiful and viable and worthwhile and I am proud of the woman I have become. I personify strength in the face of adversity, and unbeknownst to my father, he is the one who has given me this great gift.
But do I deserve love?
We live our lives egocentric and ethnocentric and selfish and blandly domesticated, and yet the plebeian masses find love, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, on a daily basis.
What makes me different?
Where’s my great love?
When is it my turn?
I will keep asking the questions and digging ever deeper within the dark recesses of my soul. I will never stop looking for the love I truly believe to be out there waiting for me. Maybe I’ve met him already…maybe not. But I will never stop hoping and I will never stop dreaming of what I truly believe should be mine.
One day at a time.
In and out.