So the question was posed to me of why I seemed to have dated buttholes (<my word) in my past. At the time, my only answer was I don’t know. And then, maybe there is a lesson to be learned. And then the topic was dropped.
Then there was yesterday. It was a long and hectic day. I think in all the madness that the day brought, it also brought down my defenses. On the drive home, I was alone and just singing along to the music playing and it hit me. I dated the “buttholes” because that was all I thought I deserved. Which is mindboggling to me, because if you were to ask me on any given day, I would spout out all I think, sorry, know that I deserve. But I guess deep down, in my subconscious mind, I didn’t really believe it all. Not when it came right down to it.
But then on the other side of it, it is what I really want. What anyone wants really. It’s why I gravitate towards the romantic comedies and sappy love songs. The passionate love affair with my best friend that is filled with all the good and bad moments that real life brings. To be utterly and completely me.
Up until recently, I think I’ve just settled. Settled for the attention I got. Settled to be the person the other wanted me to be. Settled for mediocrity and was honestly shocked with what I received. A less than satisfactory life. A life where I felt alone in the midst of people. Invisible as my guarded persona laughed and cheered with the crowd.
I think until I felt a glimpse of the sort of life I wanted, it was really hard for me to embrace it. Not all the guys in my life were or are buttholes. I’ve felt known. And accepted. And enjoyed for who I really am. For the Tina that shows up when the walls are down. I’ve been in the place where I felt cared for. Where the flawed, broken me found refuge and to be honest, healing. I have found peace in the silence.
So in the moments of solitude and openness in my car, my epiphany happened. I have had a less than stellar track record because I accepted the love I thought I deserved. I rejected any semblance of being truly known and cared for because I thought it was not for me. I cared for people who didn’t care for me. It was easier to hide than run the risk of being vulnerable with someone else. But now I know better. I know the risk I run by being wholly me is far less than the reward of being free. Of being known. Of being accepted. Of being me.
So today I travel the road of accepting the love I think I deserve. And that is one of greatness.
~~Til the next time