There was a time that I would have refused to admit I was ever ridiculed.
To admit being ridiculed means that I was vulnerable, weak and allowed myself to be hurt.
What kind of fool allows themselves to be hurt. Doesn't that equate to self-loathing and self-hatred? Vulnerability smacks of being so lame and immature that you have no principles. Or at least looks like the little girl standing alone at the school playground. Being left to stand alone with no barriers of protection. No walls surrounding the exposed parts of everything that makes you fragile, unique.
I loved him with my whole being. The thought of waiting until the next time I could see him was most times unbearable. I was proud to be seen with him. I was thrilled that he had chosen me. Together, when in his presence, I felt better. I felt like a better person. Hell, even when he wasn’t near me or physically present I still felt like I could take over the world.
He hadn’t promised me anything. In fact, I think now ... to look back on it all, that I imagined every conversation during which he would offer ‘forever.‘ I carried on with my existence of calling him my boyfriend with a false sense of security, that our ‘forever’ would indeed be that.
He came to my house just before Christmas. He ended it. Took everything that I had based my future on and in a speech that lasted just shy of 50 seconds, ridiculed me. Having purged his conscious, he then walked out.
I didn’t think I would love again. Not like I had loved him. My mode of operation after that Christmas was to selfishly put myself at the front of the line. The word “ME” topped every list of goals and aspirations.
After one relationship disaster that ended just before Christmas, several Thanksgivings later, I had no choice but to love again. Into my life walked the man who would promise me forever. His assurances of never leaving, never walking out have meant a slow evolution of vulnerability. Choosing to reveal the ME that I’ve protected all of this time.
I now know what it means to be loved, and to love. Surprisingly, the kind of love that truly reverberates through ones being doesn’t include ridicule at all. It doesn’t come with a one-sided imbalance of trust, loyalty or respect. Instead, it encourages vulnerability.
It sees the lack of protective walls as encouragement to motivate. It sees the absence of protection as an invitation to be the strength for those that are indeed, loved.
To admit being ridiculed means that I was vulnerable, weak and allowed myself to be hurt.
What kind of fool allows themselves to be hurt. Doesn't that equate to self-loathing and self-hatred? Vulnerability smacks of being so lame and immature that you have no principles. Or at least looks like the little girl standing alone at the school playground. Being left to stand alone with no barriers of protection. No walls surrounding the exposed parts of everything that makes you fragile, unique.
I loved him with my whole being. The thought of waiting until the next time I could see him was most times unbearable. I was proud to be seen with him. I was thrilled that he had chosen me. Together, when in his presence, I felt better. I felt like a better person. Hell, even when he wasn’t near me or physically present I still felt like I could take over the world.
He hadn’t promised me anything. In fact, I think now ... to look back on it all, that I imagined every conversation during which he would offer ‘forever.‘ I carried on with my existence of calling him my boyfriend with a false sense of security, that our ‘forever’ would indeed be that.
He came to my house just before Christmas. He ended it. Took everything that I had based my future on and in a speech that lasted just shy of 50 seconds, ridiculed me. Having purged his conscious, he then walked out.
I didn’t think I would love again. Not like I had loved him. My mode of operation after that Christmas was to selfishly put myself at the front of the line. The word “ME” topped every list of goals and aspirations.
After one relationship disaster that ended just before Christmas, several Thanksgivings later, I had no choice but to love again. Into my life walked the man who would promise me forever. His assurances of never leaving, never walking out have meant a slow evolution of vulnerability. Choosing to reveal the ME that I’ve protected all of this time.
I now know what it means to be loved, and to love. Surprisingly, the kind of love that truly reverberates through ones being doesn’t include ridicule at all. It doesn’t come with a one-sided imbalance of trust, loyalty or respect. Instead, it encourages vulnerability.
It sees the lack of protective walls as encouragement to motivate. It sees the absence of protection as an invitation to be the strength for those that are indeed, loved.
The first time I loved after being ridiculed ...
Over at the Red Dress Club, the prompt is :: The first time I ________-ed after _________-ing.
It is so, so hard to trust our hearts again after being trampled. I'm glad you did, though!
ReplyDeleteOh my- this. This is so vulnerable, raw, and beneath the surface. Also? Brave. I can so relate to so much of it. trust- not my strength. I'm glad that you found forever, and that you let it in..
ReplyDeleteI stumbled upon this blog accidentally. I thought I was reading my own words in the beginning, for I sure relate. My end isn't as fulfilling as yours though. I'm so glad you have a happy ending and have learned love again. How ironic I just joined the Red Dress Club then found this blog in a search for something totally different.
ReplyDelete