Don’t you try and tell me that you never loved me
I know that you did
‘Cause you said it and you wrote it down-from Kate Nash’s Merry Happy
I’m learning and re-learning. Learning and re-learning so many lessons I thought I already knew.
As much as we pretend it does–until the fists stop clenching, and the cramping stomach and the dull ache in our chests subside–betrayal doesn’t make love less real, less tangible. It doesn’t mean someone didn’t love you. That they don’t love you still. It doesn’t mean they always lie. It might mean that. But most of the time it simply means they are human. Frustratingly, cruelly, overwhelmingly human.
We all are. We are all imperfect. We strive to be the best versions of ourselves and then suddenly we’re straddling gray areas both old and new and we don’t know what to do, don’t know what to say. We falter. We fall. We are perfect in our imperfection.
I will always let someone down. I won’t anticipate a need. I’ll miss something. I’ll be a jerk. So will you. You won’t even know you’re doing it, or maybe, you will. I might not do it consciously, but it will still happen; I’ll still hurt someone. So will you.
It’s a great exercise in being an adult to begin to recognize, to really understand and believe, that when someone you love, someone you trusted, is lost, it doesn’t erase the happiness you once felt, the sheer joy you held so tightly you might have smothered it, but you just couldn’t let go. It was impossible. Just like it’s impossible to separate the past from the present sometimes. You lose yourself. You lose those you love. You lose actual love. For yourself and for someone you thought you could love for an infinite amount of time.
Life is about losing. True.
By certain standards I’ve certainly lost enough. An aunt I looked up to and who I physically resemble when I was 11. My father when I was 13. Best friends to moving trucks and far-away cities. The sound of my maternal grandfather’s voice, of both arms wrapped around me, when I was 17. A first love. My paternal grandfather, to a rare form of stomach cancer when I was 22. A child just weeks alive inside of me, and someone I thought loved enough to maybe consider being a wife when I was 23. A friend I had laughed and cried (and laughed until I cried) with since I was in the seventh grade when I was 24. A marriage at 27.
I will lose more. I know it. It’s inevitable.
I also know I’ve gained so much. An undeniable faith in hope, in optimism. A family who loves and supports me when I make great decisions, and when I make ridiculous ones. An ability to stop counting by twos, to stop seeing pairs everywhere I look and just live. Confidence. Freedom. Peace. Strength. Friendships I cherish more and more each day. The ability to laugh on a daily basis, because I really am happy. The tangible realization that there is love bigger than any of us, bigger than anyone who might love you one day, and betray you the next. The promise of a life lead with purpose.
I will gain more. I know it. It’s inevitable.
Life can never be one-sided. It’s never a glass half empty without simultaneously being a glass half full. Maybe not to you, but somewhere. As much as life is about loss, about suffering, about loneliness, life is also about gain, about healing, about community.
Life is about hope. Life is about love.
In my experience, never will you be better able to list the many things for which you are thankful than when you’re standing face-to-face with your ability to be wrecked.
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It’s a long story I’m not really going to talk about here just yet, but recently I’ve felt (happy and excited, yes, and) vulnerable and anxious and angsty for the first time in years. So many years. And I’m so scared I don’t even know what to do. I don’t know what to say. So I’m breathing deeply, and remembering who I am, and who I want to be, and talking honestly, about what I need and what I don’t.
And I’m listening. I’m doing so much listening, and it feels incredible. It also feels hard. The way bones and joints ache when they’re growing: that’s how my heart feels right now. I’m so thankful my life is filled with people who can and will and want to speak truth into my life, who love me enough to say words I need to hear even when those words might sting at first.
Life is about hope. It’s about love. So I won’t stop hoping. I won’t stop loving with everything I am. No matter how much I’ve lost and might lose. Not ever. Not because I’m not ever going to hurt someone or be hurt again. I’m sure I will hurt someone; I’m sure I will be hurt. I am hurting as I type this.
I won’t stop loving with everything I am because life is just too short to love any other way.
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(Post title also from Kate Nash’s Merry Happy.)
That hair on the head thing. Best.Feeling.Ever.
Thrilled for you!
Wow. Beautiful, beautiful post, and it speaks to me so much. Thank you for sharing this.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
You’re blossoming and it is beautiful. You are beautiful.
Keep listening to yourself.
So much beauty in this that I don’t know what else to say other than that I love you.
Beautiful. Your words, your perspective, your heart. You are one of the people who makes me grateful for the internet and for people who use it to share their lives. So happy for you, choosing the butterflies and the risk. Not safe, but worth it. And lucky, lucky guy to be loved by your lovely heart.
love is a great thing. all sides of it. <3
Hugs. Big hugs.
I told you this when you let me preview this post (just one of MANY benefits to being your friend)last week, but again:
1. You are awesome.
2. You are an awesome writer.
3. This post is awe-inspiring.
And,
4. I am so grateful to know you in real life.
xo
So beautiful, and so hopeful. This literally brought tears to my eyes. (Seriously, I am crying at my desk and hoping no one walks by!)
You and your words are a blessing.
I needed to read this today. You’re so amazing, Kerri and this post is just one example of that. Thinking of you today.
I LOVE YOU.
You are so amazing and I’m so glad to be a part of your life. Keep seeking, keep listening and keep feeling loved because YOU ARE! :)
PS- JGL says hello. And that he loves you.
Could you move into my head and take care of me and my thoughts for a while? I’m standing on a ledge and have no idea which way to go and am paralyzed into standing still. I wish I had your ability process and sort through the thoughts and come out with something coherent (not to mention beautiful) in the end.
This is so beautifully written, so honest and raw and true. I love you so much, Kerri. The world needs more people like you, who are willing to love fiercely and completely because it’s the only way that makes sense to them. I feel lucky every day that you are a part of my life. I would truly be lost without you.
Oh Kerri, I love you. This was amazingly and beautifully written. And I am so lucky to know you. Being friends with you has made my life so much better and sweeter.
Man, this is just so true, so beautiful (as always). xo
Oh you are just my favorite, Kerri.
Also, this totally reminds me of a (you guessed it) movie quote from (don’t judge) Vanilla Sky, when Jason Lee’s character says, “Just remember, the sweet is never as sweet without the sour, and I know the sour.”
SO TRUE, Jason Lee, you and your wicked beard and your awesome voice.
Love this.
Thank you for being so honest and so beautiful all at the same time. My eyes are tearing as I wish that I could be there for you right now, but I know that the One that is with you now has more wisdom and stability than I could ever bring. You are awesome for bringing truth into the world. Thanks for not being happiness and joy all the time and letting me know that pain is just as real and just as necessary as peace.
All or nothing, baby! This was beautiful.
If I were going to pay you for the enjoyment I got from this post, it would be a million sand dollars. CURRENCY OF THE SEA.
Love this post, love Kate Nash and LOVE YOU.
(also, LOVE SLYNNRO’S COMMENT!)
i read this in google reader last week but didn’t comment because all my comments are of the smart ass variety, and this is one of those posts that deserves better. also, maybe i was bitter because you can write well AND you have hans. it’s just not fair.