Love

Sometimes, it’s hard to take care of yourself. There’s a little voice inside that wants someone to notice the pain, & to say “Wow you look like shit.”
It’s the hardest when the person closest to you is struggling and there’s little to nothing you can do for them, because you can barely lift a finger to help yourself.

I was looking into adoption, but I got discouraged after the first place I called said there were more families on the wait list than babies, and they wouldn’t accept anymore families.

Even before I was pregnant with Jorah, I had this negative outlook of myself for having a prior traumatic pregnancy. I kept thinking to myself, this pregnancy I did it right. I was healthy, I was strong.

I had been through weakness before so I wasn’t taking my strength for granted, or at least I thought I wasn’t. The problem is when you think you’re strong, you’re the most vulnerable.

The greatest struggle now is accepting weakness and pretending to be strong, even when I’m not. When I feel like all the strength has been drained from me and there’s only sorrow left. The worst part about grieving is you never know if you’ll have stable footing again. I don’t know one day from the next if I’ve felt my true feelings or not.

To my husband – I love you more than anything. I wouldn’t be alive now if it wasn’t for you. Even when we struggle, even after we struggle, you find a way to come back to me. When I’m alone without you, God speaks to me and it says to go back to you. Whether I’m frightened or mad or lonely, something draws me back.

To me, my life has been a lot more struggle than peace. So I find myself thinking, again, why do we struggle and why do we love? Khalil Gibran has this to say, on love;

Then said Almitra, Speak to us of Love.
     And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:
     When love beckons to you, follow him,
     Though his ways are hard and steep.
     And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
     Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
     And when he speaks to you believe in him,
     Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
     For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
     Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
     So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
     Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself
     He threshes you to make your naked.
     He sifts you to free you from your husks.
     He grinds you to whiteness.
     He kneads you until you are pliant;
     And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.
     All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
     But if in your heart you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
     Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
     Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
     Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
     Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
     For love is sufficient unto love.
     When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
     And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
     Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
     But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
     To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
     To know the pain of too much tenderness.
     To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
     And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
     To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
     To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
     To return home at eventide with gratitude;
     And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

So when I am crying, I give thanks, because I must be loving the right way, that I feel so much pain. And maybe I will be rewarded one day, for my faith and love. But for now, I sleep, and I pray.