I'm Gonna Hang on a Little Bit Longer Sleep Well, Work a Little Harder

Sometimes love is a lizard. Or a mouse. Or a bug. Or any other myriad vermin. Blanche brought a lizard to my back door this morning. She meowed loudly to get my attention. I went to the door and she dropped this thing at my feet, guts all hanging out. Gross. But this is one of those mean lizards. They'll bite the shit out of you and hold on until you pry them off. They're the snapping turtles of tiny things. She worked hard for that kill. And she wanted to give it to me.

What I'm saying is that we all have two love languages: the language that we speak and the language that we hear. For my Blanche, love is gifts. They are gifts. That is the language that she speaks. My responsibility in this whole love thing is to recognize these gifts and reward the effort. That does not mean that I should never say "I can't let that nasty thing into my house." You can't let someone else's love make you sick. You can't let someone else's love put you in danger.

Perspective is everything. All souls feel love and all souls express it differently. It's okay to receive the love in the spirit it was intended and to say "This isn't what I need and so I can't accept it." I think that's what boundaries are. I'm honestly just starting to learn boundaries for myself. My whole life, I've wanted love so much that I accept whatever is given to me and I take it. I don't have to do that. In fact, it hurts me. It hurts the person trying to love me. It never nurtures a relationship. If you never ask for anything, you can't expect to get it. If someone you love never asks you for anything, how are you supposed to be able to give it to them?

I never have been one to ask anyone for more than they give. And that's been a big lesson lately. Someone who loves me called me out on that and called me out on knowing that what they could give me would not make me happy. In the same way, I've found some people who love me the way I need to be loved. I think that's part of the whole process. All these years and I've never let people. That is, let them love me the way I need to be loved. Any time that's ever happened, I push. I sabotage. I fight it tooth and nail. Letting someone love you the right way makes you vulnerable. It's dangerous in a different way. That love can be weaponized. And my particular trauma shows that intentional or not, love turned into a weapon is the worst way to receive love. But damned if that's not my way.

I put up these walls to people who want to love me. Who really want to love me and not just use me. I recognize someone who wants to use me. I see those motives so clearly. When someone doesn't want to use me, I'm so damaged that I don't trust it because I don't understand it. I never trust anything I can't understand. I want to have all the answers. No one can have all the answers.

So I'm sitting here waiting for the phone to make a noise. I broke a superstition early. I figured if I was going to jinx it, I'd just get it out of the way. But it's not making any noise. And that's okay. I'm not suspicious. He's busy. He's got kids. He's got them right now. And he's devoted. I love that. I think that if I were a kid today and my dad had a cell phone, he'd probably put it down when we were together too. I admire that and I respect it. I trust him. I've gotten my face bitten with that exact type of trust all too recently, but harboring that and using it to excuse my sabotage is not okay. His love feels different. But they all do. I won't jump too fast.

I think that's part of it too. I have so much love and I want love so deeply that any sign is enough to have me jumping right in. And then by the time I realize this ain't it, I'm bleeding and crying. I'm not going to let it be that way anymore. It will never work. Patience and time and learning. That's the answer. And this gentleman may not be the answer, but either way, I'll be absolutely sure.

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