Life as of late has been a crazy whirlwind of moments it would seem. I tried something new and just took things as they came but the more sensible side of me kicked in last minute and begged the question "why?" while the other side threw back "why not?". After a hard heart to heart talk, I realized that what I thought would be the "next big thing" or in other words my next attempt at being with someone was really just a brief moment in time to help me realize something about myself--or rather be told something about myself that I haven't really paid much attention to but in knowing it have been able to make some sense of a few of my experiences in the past year.
I asked my dear friend why he liked to be around me so much but still didn't seem have the desire to know more about me than he already did--being content with the simple fact that I stood beside him and he never had to question that I wanted to be there.
The answer he came up with? Because I care. Because I genuinely cared about his well being and wanted to be able to support him in his triumphs and catch him to lift him up while he was down. Apparently over the years I have a nurtured a deep ability to empathize and to simply accept the people around me as they are--even if I don't always agree with their views.
That being said I have realized that I don't so much "fall in love" as I find someone that I think is worth my love and I give it to them--wholeheartedly. The unfortunate crux that I found in this however is that any feeling of rejection feels as though I have been completely and utterly rejected, it calls to mind every time that I have been left out in the proverbial cold...even when I am told immediately following that I will not be left alone, that he will remain beside me in friendship--that he "loves" me.
Why is it that we can feel others are so deserving of our love but when they return it we reject it? I am talking about myself, frankly, because when a person tells me they love me (as long as they are outside of my immediate family) my heart squeezes painfully and all the reasons they shouldn't love me come glaringly to the forefront of my mind.
How horribly vexing it is to crave love, acceptance, friendship but be of the feeling that I have too many reasons why I shouldn't be given the friendship...the acceptance... the love.
Another thought that blossomed just now is just how fine a line there is to tread between fear and faith. Faith is always, ALWAYS, what has pulled me through in the end but there is so much fear that I have to wade through before I get those shining moments of clarity. Why is it so much easier to accept the love of a Heavenly Father, a Father whose face I cannot remember, whose embrace I only have the ghost of a recollection in my memory and yet... when those I can see, feel, hear tangibly say "I love you" I question it? I veto it? I laugh self-deprecatingly and get embarrassed and self-conscious.
They tell me they love my smile, my laugh, the way I think, the way I hug--they love me, Cassidy.
I get it. I am in my own way. But until I get out of my way... please do not give up on me--telling me you love me or that I am pretty or that I am wonderful just being me. For it is when I kick the hardest that I need those words the most--just like you.
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