Lying in bed; the darkness envelopes me, ominous and mystic. My mind is bursting with thoughts of what I need, want in my life. It’s the same every night; I reflect on a life of a mere 42 years, weighed down by it.
I cry myself to sleep some nights. I need to love myself; I want more than the contempt of shame that sits on my shoulders. I want to be a better mom, daughter, friend, sister, lover. I wish love to be without darkness and torment. I am exhausted from living afraid, and not trusting love.
This life has spent some time testing my strength. I’m not complaining or looking for your sympathy. I actually prefer not to have it, I have spent my existence trying to convince a big scary world, and myself, I don’t need love.
Not the kind of love it has given me thus far.
It’s all connected, love and pain. I can’t love without a tumultuous panic, I don’t trust it. I don’t mean to be stand-offish when you open your heart to me, I just don’t believe you. I’ve twisted the meaning of love in my heart. It has become a stranger standing in the light of a dark tunnel. A faint figure, I turn and walk away from instead of heading towards the light of it.
Nevertheless, I want and need your love.
I shy from using the word broken to describe myself since I believe we are all a little broken. I am fractured, but not a lost cause. I know how difficult I am to love. My acceptance of love is cracked, and the walls I have built around my heart are complicated, intertwined in misery and dread. I resist letting anyone in, not because I don’t want the warmth of love and trust, I fear it.
I want you to love me for it, despite it; embrace my frail heart and accept the lost little girl I am. I need you find a way to penetrate this broken heart.
Love me like this.
Remember each time you tell me you love me I don’t believe you, it will cut me leaving a gaping hole where my heart was. I don’t want to bleed out not for anyone. Push through.
You will tell me this is what love feels like. But you are wrong, love doesn’t hurt. I will resist accepting your love. I want more than anything to let you in, but I panic. Push through.
Know that I cannot give you all of me at first. But if you wait it out you will never feel bigger love than this. Trust that there is love inside me; I have protected it, concealed it in mistrust and injury. Push through.
Accept my broken pieces, help me pick them up. Hold them for me when I cannot. I will, most definitely try to take them back, and tell you that you don’t deserve to have them. Push through.
Hold me and tell me that I will be okay even when I struggle to believe it myself. I will drive you away, with hurtful heartbreaking words. Know that I don’t mean them, they come from this defective heart that doesn’t believe it deserves your love. Push through.
Wrap your arms around my heart, hold it together for me when it starts to fall apart. Feel each beat and know I struggle with the pain. Tell me you want to understand my hurt even when I say the pain doesn’t burn. Push through.
Accept these bloody broken pieces of my crushed and harden soul without judgement. I only want to be able to accept the love you are giving me, without the fear that so profoundly resonates and permeates my heart. Push through.
Love me like this … push through and eventually I will give you all the pieces of my imperfect, beautiful heart.