Thursday, March 14, 2013

i can't make you love me....if you don't

The post is brought to you by........random, disjointed thoughts that I have....they are not connected.

Every time I hear the song "I can't make you love me" sung by Bon Iver (and sometimes when I hear Bonnie sing it), I cry.  Every...single...time... I get so emotional. I start thinking about scenarios of unrequited love I have never even experienced. My imaginary boyfriend or love of my life I have never had comes into focus and I "well" up. I fight the urge to plan out and star in a sad music video. You've all done it too. I can't help it really, it's just so beautiful and dramatic. It makes my heart ache.


A topic of my blog that has come up more than I would like is emotion. Crying over songs, stories, movies, COMMERCIALS. Uhg, this is just not me. I have written more on fighting the crying than embracing it. I have made more comments apologizing for tearing up than asking for a tissue and letting the tears flow. I have fought the emotions of being more than just a woman, but instead, human. I put my fists up brace the gut wrenching feeling of, well...anything. Mind you, it doesn't work and my emotions come out fractured and at the wrong time and towards the wrong person.

I don't think I'm alone in this. Three times this week, I heard a few friends say they used their husband/fiancé/boyfriend as a "punching bag". Ouch. Ok, not literally...but emotionally. And every time, the guy gives them space and they talk it out and all is good. But WHY do we do this in the first place?

I think it is instilled in us at a young age that we should not show weakness, and somewhere along the way we equated weakness with crying and sadness.  This makes us scared of being depressed, feeling lonely, and talking about emotion too soon. We are told to "guard our hearts" and "be strong" and there's "no use crying over spilled milk". There's not? I think its calling coping and dealing with shit that happens in our lives. Because life is hard sometimes.

Maybe I'm just getting older. And realizing in this short life, things are worth crying over. Sometimes, that's all you can do.


This past weekend I went home. Sometimes I feel suffocated by the city. The demanding life of the city wears on me. I am not good at saying no, sitting still or being alone. Which makes living in the city a perfect place for an extroverted young adult like myself. Or maybe it makes it the worst place for me. I hide here in the busyness, in the activities, in the food and drink.

I don't think being busy is bad. I think its good, and like my last post explained, it is important. But I think when you get to the point where you "have to get out" and "just need to go home", I think you've let the city infiltrate you, crush you with its weight of expectations and, dare I say, broken dreams. I get to this point about every 6 months. I think this time it was expedited by the broken wrist, surgery and starting a new job within a month. But really, those are just excuses. Because regardless of my physical state, I get burned out more often that I care to admit. And now I've admitted it, and you know.

My family yells. We are a loud, proud people and we want to be heard. I don't think this is bad, but sometimes it can get confusing. Our personalities are loud, except my mom, who is as cute, sweet and quiet as can be; but the rest of us.......whew.
So I went home to rest, and I yelled. I saw my little baby niece who is growing up way too fast and I love more than anything. She has fashioned herself with red hair and blue eyes, what a great combo. I love her, and I love my family. And apparently, I love yelling. But please, everything in moderation.

As I write this post, I still feel burned out but full. I am peaceful about it, which is weird. I have come to find that life is exhausting when you live it with your heart open; when you chose vulnerability over isolation. I have been told, as a female, to guard my heart. While this is "smart advice" and I should heed it, it is hard to do. Because when I love, speak, listen, sit, read, watch, write, invite, pray, cry - I do it all with my heart. It's hard to keep my firsts up for that long.

I was watching a TED talk (gosh, I love them) about being vulnerable. The wonderful PhD woman said that we numb ourselves so that we do not feel pain, sadness, guilt etc. And that makes sense. But you cannot selectively numb. When you numb the bad parts of life, you numb the good ones too - love, vulnerability, happiness, contentment. You guard yourself, you heart from feeling anything when you skip over the bad feelings. So I just feel everything. And it makes me tired. But it makes me full too. And I will argue this point with my dear, big-brother-like-friend, John, to the death of the subject. But we will never agree.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” CS Lewis

Perspective. I don't love the right way or well, but I'm trying. I'm trying to give up the control of everything going perfectly. Of making everyone happy. Of thinking my life should look different than it does, or that I have to fix be someone I'm not.

I try, but I can't make you love me, if you don't.

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