Day 253 – Love Already

Very interesting day.

Where to start? It’s about 2:40 in the morning on Tuesday. Yesterday (or Sunday night rather) I did a therapy session with my friend the therapist. It was about love and finding a partner/husband. He was helping me to figure out the deep-seated beliefs in my subconscious and release the things that weren’t true. By the time we were done with the session, I was feeling all kinds of sensations in my body, my head in particular. I needed to rest.

Today (or yesterday rather) I woke up early. I prayed, read, stretched. I started to blog, but had to hurry to get to work, so didn’t finish. I was writing affirmations to myself. “Laydie. You are full of love. You are loving and loveable. You are loving and Lovable. You are loving and lovable…”

Today I received a correspondence from the man I thought you said was my husband, God. He let me know that he’s “committed” to someone else and asked me (in so many words) to be his mistress. Side girl. Fantasy dream of sorts.

I ask myself how I feel about this. Am I hurt? Not really. Mad? No. Disappointed? Yes. Incredulous? Uh huh… My hands are tingling. My cheeks are pulsating. My body is my truth teller. I can not pretend not to feel what I feel. My body tells on me every time, even when I don’t have the words. Not disheartened either.

Done. That is the word. Just done… In the past week, I have ended so many “relationships”. I have been chronically single for so long, yet always in a relationship. Like a revolving door, somebody from the past always trying to come back and start up something. And I have always seemed to be willing to engage. A dinner. A movie. A text. A long conversation about nothing about nothing… A prolonging of a fantasy. Because none of these men ever want anything. They don’t really want to settle down. They don’t really  want to be with someone who they are actually in love with. That would make them too vulnerable. They just want to play. Pass the time. Indulge into their fantasies without consequence…

I have been that girl. The fantasy girl. The one to take on trips and go to parties with. The one to talk about the deep aspects of self with. I get to meet the family. Except mom. I get love poems and jewelry. Food… I get offered all the man parts a girl can dream of. But I don’t get the man… You see, he only wants the fantasy. He doesn’t want the imperfect me. My sadness. My weaknesses. My constant thinking about everything. He doesn’t really really want to be there for me when in need, just when he needs… He doesn’t want my babies. I mean, he wants to think about  having my babies, but actually having them? Nah…

I am the one for passion and pleasure. For dreams. All that other stuff? Every day land? It’s for the every day girl. The wife. She is allowed to be sad or weak or nagging and imperfect. Heck, she’s expected to be that way. She is given babies and commitment but no gifts or poems. Her fat belly is just fine because he hardly ever notices her. She is not the fantasy. I am…

It’s an interesting dynamic. I am just becoming aware of it. More often than not, I have unknowingly played the role of the fantasy girl in some guy’s drama. I have tasted the role of the every day girl, too, and it’s not the fun either, especially when your guy has a fantasy girl…

I recognize that a fantasy girl is inevitably attracted to unavailable fantasy men and an every day girl never believes that she’s worth loving, and I don’t want to be either any more.

I’m done. Delete. Exit stage right. I have been wasting precious time. This is why the enlightened ones tell you to dream your own dream, decide what it is you want to be doing with this thing called life. Because if you don’t, you might be the victim of someone else’s fantasy, and it might not look anything like the things that you imagined long ago when you still believed…

So I went on a dumping spree, but this time it was different. It wasn’t my mind or some self-help book telling me about endings. It wasn’t me dogging out all the people that I had experienced life with this far. It was my heart telling me I’m done. Enough. It was my spirit telling me to get it together. This fantasy girl is not what we set out to be. Or this every day girl stuff.

My body was screaming, “LOVE!!!” Love, girl. Love. You are done with that other stuff. Love, already. A deep Love. A seed planting Love. A come home to Love.  A fantasy, real life Love. No headaches involved. No analytical conversations about how and why we should or shouldn’t be together. An easy Love. No power plays or suppression of one another’s dreams. A grown-up Love. All flaws acknowledged and accepted. My body has been telling me to Love, already.

Don’t worry about where you will find him. Just create the space. Let go of all the others. Create the space. A clean space. An open space not clouded with the energy of other men who have gotten too close. A welcoming space for a Big Love. I listen. And I obey. Delete. Delete. Delete…

Day 253

Love Already