Eat. Pray. Love.
Runaway Bride.
I swear this tall, skinny, white woman is living the life of this average height, curvy, biracial woman on screen and I wish she'd just stop it. Well, not really. She's provided part of my therapy before I was in therapy so I guess I should be grateful. Isn't it ironic how skin color becomes irrelevant, age doesn't matter, and economic status doesn't play a factor when it comes to love and relationships? We base so much in this life on what we look like, do for a living, and where we think we're going, but in reality all of us want the same thing:
To be happy. To be loved. To be happily in love.
She'd traveled to 48 or 49 countries; had her passport stamped to prove she'd been somewhere and become worldly educated; only to find that people in every land, of every shape, color, and religion all wanted to know about love.
How do we find it? How do we keep it? When should we leave it? When should we fight to hold on to it?
We humans are quite pitiful, aren't we? Simple even.
Then why do we make things so difficult?
I would suggest that it's because our focus is misplaced. We're looking, hunting... even when we say we're not, we're posting our "advertisements" of what we're doing for self so someone else will notice how "put together we are" and find us appealing. What a conundrum we people are in these days... Especially the women.
Bless our hearts.
Let me only speak for myself. How's that? Before someone gets offended and starts saying I think I know all the answers. I'll make myself the example, ok?
As a woman, I've been taught to nurture... to edify, uplift, support - be the "help meet" for the man in my life. And while I'm proud of those qualities... wouldn't trade them for the world, I also think they've been to my detriment because I tend to lose myself in "him". All the sudden, his tv shows become mine, I'm okay with his favorite restaurant, fixing his favorite dinners and desserts. It's not because I don't know who I am. I'm perfectly aware of the working parts inside me... Probably more so than most people you know. But it's because I've never taken the time to nurture me. So if I don't matter to me, it's not an issue to put someone else before me.
I know to some that may seem foreign, but I believe for more women than we would ever care to let you know, we suffer from this disease of "selflessness". See, what I'm learning now is that I am extreme. I'm all in or all out. I'm black or white. And it's not working for me. It's wearing me out. It's making me want to run down the altar... leave my loves behind... board a plane and head to the other side of the world so I can Eat. Pray. Love. MYSELF. Because I don't know how I like my eggs or I'm planning to hike on my honeymoon when I have no desire to leave my bedroom... and while these are movie references, you get my point.
Balance.
That's the resounded lesson I hear the Universe trying to teach me. Find the things that make me who I am. Recognize the extremes...not only where they take me, but why I let them and then make adjustments. And if my love at the time is the extreme opposite, then allow him to provide balance as I bring him "center" but never losing me in the process. Compromise is okay. Disappearing is something altogether different. I can ride shotgun; give you the spotlight when appropriate; be your cheerleader in the background... as long as you know to do the same when the time comes because I deserve to shine as well. My dreams do not disappear in the pursuit of your goals and my likes do not dissipate because your wants differ. I matter.
To me... I matter.
And what I'm finding is that when I place the focus on me... the happy comes a little easier. The love tends to follow suit because it sees the progress in me and wants to be a part of it. It's funny that I once needed someone else to love me to let me know that I could and should be loved. Now, I'm learning that I can love me and if no one else does, then they're missing out. I'm going to breathe anyway. I'm going to find my joy in an entire pizza engulfed while sitting in my own Naples, Italy, my peace while meditating in the temple of my personal Indonesia, and my "balance of self" in the love I've found within me...and with him.
I don't maintain every day. Some days, I slip. I overindulge and can't button my pants, fall asleep during meditation, or find myself standing on the beach unable to get in the boat. But the other days... I learn to order my new life's menu in a tongue that was completely foreign to me a month ago... I find meditation over without realizing I've been in quiet contemplation for longer than planned and I meet him on the pier with my paddles ready to row for us. I'm not perfect, but I'm learning what works for me and mastering how not to let the bad days get the best of me and send me backwards.
My progress is too important. It's how I managed to put away my track shoes, step outside my castle of protection where I felt safe locked away from love and what I thought was inevitable hurt, and take the risk again. And I don't want to go back.
Yes, there are days when running away is appealing... more attractive than meth to an addict, but I heard someone say this and it stuck with me:
'Yes, you're hurting. Yes, you're in pain right now. And if you don't do the drug (in my case, run backwards) the tunnel of darkness will end. It may be a long, dark road, but eventually, the tunnel will end, the pain and hurt will lessen, and you'll see the light in front of you. But if you do it... if you take that hit, shoot up... if you run, the hurt never goes away. The pain stays forever. You always walk in darkness. There is no light.
So for me... I'll continue on my journey. Eating. Praying. Loving. and Learning along the way what works best for me. Because a better me, gets a better man who loves me best.
Dani
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