First love, True love, Forever love

I seem to be reading a lot of blogs lately and finding inspiration in them.  I’ve read several posts about Forever Loves.  At 43, I don’t believe I’ve met my forever love.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I never will. 

Sure I’ve been married. Twice. I knew neither of them would be forever.  I’ve been honest about the reasons I married them.  Neither was because I was head over heals I can’t live without him want to spend the rest of my life with him in love.  Oh, I did love them, as best I could as the person I was then with what I understood about love.  All of which was painfully inadequate. 

But they were not total failures.  I have three amazingly brilliant, funny, good looking, outgoing, wonderful kids. (yes, I’m wearing mommy goggles) I have a good relationship with my 2nd ex husband, and my 1st ex husband could fall of the face of the Earth and I wouldn’t hire the search party to find him.  Oh, there would be a party, just not the searching kind.

Then there was Brian. I can honestly say, from the beginning, I thought “This is it. This is forever love.”  The stubborn hopeless romantic still wonders what if.  (look, that’s honest, but it doesn’t mean it will happen, but you know, when you believe that this is it it’s hard to let go of that, no matter what.) After 5 years, and countless break ups, it’s probably a safe bet that he isn’t my forever love. 

But he was as close as I have ever gotten.  He’s probably as close as I’ll ever get. 

My first love? I was 12. In 7th grade.  His mom made him break up with me in 8th grade because she said he was getting too serious.  At the time I thought she was cruel and I cried for a week, my poor 12 year old heart was shattered for the first time.  I thought I would probably die.  Turns out, she knew him pretty well.. he tends to get a bit obsessive.

The thing is, I hear people talk of true love, forever love, lasting love, a certain security in knowing that while their partner could leave on any given day, they know that they know that they know that they won’t.  And that is something I’ve never had.  I’m willing to accept that I never will.  Does it tug at my heart? Sure it does. Who doesn’t want to find someone who loves them, accepts them, wants to be with them day in and day out and not just on good hair days?

I believe in true love, forever love, lasting love, committed love.  I just believe it exits for other people.  At 43, I’ve missed the boat.  I chose to give my heart to men who wouldn’t protect it, who would end up breaking it, sometimes over and over again.  I’m done giving my heart away.  It’s too beat up, banged up and bruised, used and abused, I’d be hard pressed to find anyone willing to put in the work to heal it.  I’d be even harder pressed to find someone I’d be willing to let try. 

All I want, isn't even close to all that I deserve, but it's a start

I am learning to set boundaries.

I am learning to say “HEY! This is what I want, this is what’s important to me.  This is what I need.  And if you can’t deal with it, if that’s not on your radar, I don’t have time for you.”

I am learning that I don’t have to settle in order to keep someone in my life.  If they can’t meet me half way at the very least, I can’t meet them at all.

I am finding my voice.

And I’m learning I don’t care if they leave my life, they weren’t good for me in the first place.

And that?

Is pretty fucking awesome.

So yesterday, I unfriended Mr I-don’t-have-time-for-you.   I don’t expect a whole lot.  A text message in the morning, one at night, maybe one in the middle of the day.  Text messages at the very least.  They take less than a minute to send.  Clearly he didn’t think about it or have the time to think about it and send a single text message.  And if he’s that busy, there’s no room or time for me in his life.

The phone call came last night that up until then he’d been too busy to make.  I was just too busy to answer.  I just don’t care.  He could call me ‘Sexy” and “Babe” and all those nice little names that would suck me back in.  I just don’t have it in me.  This was never going to go anywhere… so why drag it out.  He was there the day I spent 8 hours in the hospital.  The feelings that were stirred up that day I am convinced weren’t real, they were just a manifestation of  the mania I was in, the mania that had landed me in the hospital in the first place.

I went to my first one-on-one therapy session this week.  One the one month anniversary of my hospital visit.  I have taken steps to get healthy, there is a long way to go.  But I am finding my voice.  I know what I want, I know what I need.  I won’t allow anyone to take advantage of me.  I won’t give more than they do.  If they don’t make an effort, I won’t stick around.  I don’t ask for the moon.

And maybe a few in between.

Is that really asking too damn much???