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Recently, I saw a post on Instagram that made me laugh hard just before it made me think even harder.
I was once a true "ride or die" chick. The ride was pretty rough and it did almost kill me.
The ex you have heard about before was my personal Jim Jones. I loved him blindly and drank so much of his Koolaid that I'm still getting the poison out of my system. In the early days of our relationship, he told me that he didn't think that he had enough to offer me in the way of material things. I told him I didn't care and that I would live in a shack or on the streets with him. It was only after we had burned through all of my money and were really close to living on the streets that I had a couple of revelations. For one thing, there was no reason for us to be in such a bad situation. If he had at least tried to help and love me the way I did him, we'd have been just fine. For another thing, well, he didn't love me the way I loved him. I know because he eventually told me so.
It was that relationship - and all the drama and fear and anger and abuse - that helped make me sick. If you think that emotional and psychological stress can't kill you, ask a doctor.
My bad relationship helped me to realize that the love I need is the love I have to give.
A few short years of being "ride or die" for someone who didn't deserve that kind of loyalty cost me so much. I damaged other relationships, I wrecked my mental and physical health, and I crucified my finances. Believe this or not though, I gained so much more than I lost. Humiliation taught me things that pride never could have. I know what being loved and valued means now that I've been through the opposite. Most of all, I learned something my mother always tried to teach me. Hope is worth more than 'happy'. Being happy can very quickly be replaced with sorrow and depression and defeat. Being hopeful helps you persevere when you think about giving up and giving in. I survive on hope every single day.
So, I sometimes joke about being burned and learned when it comes to love. Truth is, I'm still a believer. I believe that the other half of my celestial self is out there somewhere, remaining hopeful.
And that, I truly, hope, is the truth.
Peace
--Free
 |
| Liking my pic is not the problem here! |
I was once a true "ride or die" chick. The ride was pretty rough and it did almost kill me.
The ex you have heard about before was my personal Jim Jones. I loved him blindly and drank so much of his Koolaid that I'm still getting the poison out of my system. In the early days of our relationship, he told me that he didn't think that he had enough to offer me in the way of material things. I told him I didn't care and that I would live in a shack or on the streets with him. It was only after we had burned through all of my money and were really close to living on the streets that I had a couple of revelations. For one thing, there was no reason for us to be in such a bad situation. If he had at least tried to help and love me the way I did him, we'd have been just fine. For another thing, well, he didn't love me the way I loved him. I know because he eventually told me so.
It was that relationship - and all the drama and fear and anger and abuse - that helped make me sick. If you think that emotional and psychological stress can't kill you, ask a doctor.
My bad relationship helped me to realize that the love I need is the love I have to give.
 |
| Or maybe there will be no more hurt |
A few short years of being "ride or die" for someone who didn't deserve that kind of loyalty cost me so much. I damaged other relationships, I wrecked my mental and physical health, and I crucified my finances. Believe this or not though, I gained so much more than I lost. Humiliation taught me things that pride never could have. I know what being loved and valued means now that I've been through the opposite. Most of all, I learned something my mother always tried to teach me. Hope is worth more than 'happy'. Being happy can very quickly be replaced with sorrow and depression and defeat. Being hopeful helps you persevere when you think about giving up and giving in. I survive on hope every single day.
So, I sometimes joke about being burned and learned when it comes to love. Truth is, I'm still a believer. I believe that the other half of my celestial self is out there somewhere, remaining hopeful.
And that, I truly, hope, is the truth.
Peace
--Free
