The Elevator
I recently realized that for the last 18 years, I’ve been putting myself back together since you broke me, since all that I was programmed to believe came crashing down—like a home built without a foundation.
I want to blame my parents, but is that fair when they were simply reflecting how others were toward them? It’s probably more fair to blame the lineage, at least the last three generations, for the love that never had a chance to fully blossom because of the defective seeds planted and nurtured within me.
Maybe that day I was supposed to stop you. But how could I ruin your life? I was a mess. I wasn’t ready, nor did I feel deserving of you. Too many programs running inside me. Too many wires crossed, needing to be untangled and rewired.
I recently met 'her' again. It was a knowing, the same knowing I had when I walked into that club, and we locked eyes for the first time. I just knew.
It’s been hard. Not the hard times—they’ve passed—but it’s the good times that are hard. It’s on the elevator going up that I wish you were here. Someone to celebrate with. Someone to witness all my growth. I’m about to step into yet another elevator, and it looks like I’ll be walking in it alone once again. I have my friends, family, coach, and a few of them will fit, but at some point, they too will step off.
Living with an Open Broken Heart
I once heard a wise woman say that Buddhists live with an open broken heart. That sentiment stayed with me, and it’s what I strive for most today. My first test came unexpectedly, like a punch in the gut followed by an aching heart. Love takes many forms, but one thing they all have in common is that it hurts when it leaves.
I’ve realized I have anxiety about people leaving. It wasn’t something I considered until my ex pointed it out. My anxiety stems from the fact that the people I loved, and who should have loved me—who do love me—have left. Sometimes, they’ve left multiple times.
After my first love didn’t work out, I shut my heart completely. But the truth is, there wasn’t much effort needed in locking it up because I had already kept most of it on lockdown. Occasionally, I’d open it to take a peek at what could be, but mostly it was closed. It was a defence mechanism, a result of broken trust.
Whether rational or not, in my mind, trust had been broken. I didn’t feel like I mattered, so people would leave or make decisions that didn’t consider me. That’s been my reality, perhaps even since birth.
Today, though, I kept a promise I made to myself back in the summer of 2014. I committed to living with an open broken heart. I know it hurts right now, but I also know it’s the same pain that’s opening my heart a little wider. It’s the same pain that increases my capacity to love. It’s a pain that reminds me I’m starting to feel again.
Why people come into our lives is a mystery. But when you live from this place of openness, it’s a mystery worth exploring—and staying open to—now and forever.
I’ve come to realize that my journey in this lifetime, my greatest challenge, is to love and to be loved. Compared to that, everything else feels like a walk in the park.
I don’t know how this story ends, but one thing is certain: sadness is just a step closer to happiness.
To be continued...