Is Love Ever In Vain?

Image by Shift and Sheriff from Pixabay.

Yesterday, early in the morning, out of nowhere it came to me that it was an ex-boyfriend’s birthday. My last boyfriend. He actually was not a real boyfriend just someone I was starting to know. The whole experience was not a smooth one, because we lived our “romance” for most of its brief time a Continent apart. And since I am not the best when the subject is keeping in touch via messages, videos, texting… I guess at some point he thought I was losing interest in him. But I was not. I was just being me, the antisocial me, the person who sucks in keeping in touch. Or to keep any relationship, to be fair.

So when we reunited al last, he ditched me. With distance and then words in a message. Still don’t know why exactly, but I let him go. Easily. Not because I was no longer interested in trying but because I realized I didn’t like the version of him that didn’t like me. That simple.

And yet, that hard.

We moved on, in different directions and up to this moment our paths haven’t crossed. And I don’t think it ever will. Because that is what happens every time with me and my relationships. They only last till they last. And when it’s over it doesn’t become something else, just a nothing.

And that is the tuff part for me; this nothing afterwards. Because all my exes or most of them were keepers, men that I would like to keep around, in my life. Not for sex or any romantic innuendo but as a friend or at least someone that somehow would still be part of my life, even if sporadically. To talk, laugh here and there, over a coffee. Or a tea.

It’s not because we are no longer in love or falling in love that we couldn’t keep in touch. At least for me. For them it seems an impossible task. When it’s over it’s like I got a terrible contagious disease and they feel as if they need to be far away from me. As far as they can. It’s a matter of life and death.

Dramatic but true. And that is how endings like that makes me feel. A failure. Worthless. Nothing.

Just someone who never had a bad, sore breakup does believe that the first impressions are the ones that remain. In this case, it’s not. It’s that last sad, ugly, sore memory of that melancholic breakup that will stick with you, that will flavor the whole story with its bitterness, regardless the story you had before it. Because when you look back and recall the story, it’s not the good silly times we had together, the way our conversation flew as if we were best friends for years and years, the way he knew how to put a big smile in my face that will come up. All of it is vanished and what remains is how bitter and sour was that ending. How horrible it made you feel. And it’s impossible not to think that that story deserved a better end. Not necessarily happily ever after, but a much better one. I deserved better. You deserved better. We deserved better.

Would then this and other love stories with bad endings be in vain, I wonder?

It sure does feel like that, but then again love is love. And love, regardless the ending, is never, ever in vain.

Never.

Frozen

Photo: Pixabay.

Yet, still moving.

Where to?

No idea.

But always moving.

Away from my dreams.

For sure.

Because they are THE things I am doing my very best (or worst?) avoiding to go for.

So I move…

In other directions.

Any direction.

Away from them.

That is why I fell stuck, frozen in time. Because although I am moving I am going nowhere really. Not where I should go.

And that sucks.

Big time.

Not only because time is getting short each day, month and year I procrastinate yet another step in the right direction.

But because deep inside I know I am not doing what I am suppose to do.

Funny thing is I don’t think I am moving too far from my dreams.

I stick around.

Just in case?

With a wide opened eye on them.

A heart beating in their rhythm.

But my feet, damn feet!, follows my scary mind that keep on walking away from them.

Poor thing.

Just going round and round, waiting to jump in any moment.

Actually, not in any any moment, but the perfect moment when inspiration becomes so impossible to avoid that I have no other alternative other than jump in.

All in.

Organically.

Fully.

But the sad true is the fear of failure (or should I say, to succeed?), the ghost of perfectionism, the critical devil inside keep guarding me from this vital jump.

With words.

Emotions.

Blindness.

Anxiety.

Procrastination.

Till when will I be around waiting for that perfect moment that will never ever come? I wonder.

Because there is no such thing as the perfect moment. Just the moment. And by itself, without harsh judgements or romantic ideals, it can become the perfect moment.

Or something very close to it.

I don’t fear the answer. I know the answer.

What I fear the most is to know that even knowing the recipe to unfrozen me, here I am, frozen as an Iceberg.

Floating.

But not really.

Stuck.

And yet moving.

Round and round.

Going nowhere.

With this huge and amazing ocean to brave ahead.

And This Is How I Started My New Year

With my Morning Walk. As usual. As I have been doing since a year ago when I decided to walk every morning to heal my left knee. The knee is 100% again but I kept my Morning Walks as a routine ever since. A routine that goes beyond an acquired habit; it’s my beloved way to start my day. Some people do it with a cup of coffee, for me it’s my Morning Walks. They set my vibe for day. Plus, it’s that moment, my moment to be out there with green nature around and all the colors that live inside me. As I listen to my music set for the day, I listen to my thoughts and the absence of it. I breathe in, I breathe out, respiration, perspiration, perception, feelings, inspiration, expiration. It’s like a Moving Meditation, an inner talk between me, myself and I. And the Universe. It’s Zen, Real, Mine. And I really appreciate every minute of it. Enjoy it. Cherish it. Regardless the weather.

That is why, year in, year out, here I am, Morning Walking. Not because the calories burnt and the cardio workout (although they are both pluses), but because it’s something that makes me feel good inside by doing it. It lights my inner fire, my inner light. That is why I keep on doing it. And there is no better motivation to keep morning walking than this.

#HappyNewYear #EveryDayMotivation #KeepWalking

“Happiness can’t be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every single minute with love, grace (and I add: radiance) and gratitude.”

– Denis Waitley

Happy Thanksgiving!🙏🍁💗

About A Broken Heart

It hurts. A lot. And it’s supposed to. After all, it’s a broken heart.

Sometimes we get sad, disappointed and even angry with the other person (because, seriously, how could they?🤣). Sometimes, we get sad, disappointed and so angry with ourselves (because, seriously, how could we make the same mistake again of falling for the wrong person once again?😔).

Other times, a mix of both.

No matter the case, it hurts. And it does, because when we welcome somebody to our world, give them a key to our heart so they can come in and make themselves comfortable, they become a piece of it. The heart expands and accommodates. And when, suddenly that piece leaves, it’s no longer there, we get a hole, a windy, cold, painful hole. That aches. That longs for that little tiny piece to come back. To feel whole, cozy and warm again.

Our hearts take time to realize that once, not so long ago, it worked and functioned without that little tiny piece that now is missing. And it can and will function properly again without it.

Eventually.

If, better, when we let it be.

But until then, it does ache.

A lot.

But guess what? It’s much much better to feel that broken heart pain than to feel nothing. No pain, no love, just nothing. The void of numbness can be a much worse feeling. And usually is.

Much.

Trust me. Been there. Done that. I’d rather feeling each inch of a broken heart than feel absolutely nothing at all. Because being alive is the experience of feeling, whatever we feel, good, bad, beautiful or ugly. And when we don’t, we feel dead inside. And although breathing with the heart beating and the mind thinking, we are pretty much dead.

And is there a worst “feeling” than this?