I had written in my last blog that I got a huge dose of thankfulness the other week. I try to be thankful every day for at least one thing. Sometimes, we focus too much on the things we don’t have or what isn’t right in our lives…everyone is guilty of it. The week before last I came across an article written by a woman who was a single mom and homeless. She had been evicted from her home and her and her two daughters lived in a mini-winnebago for six years. Six years. Work was the wrong place to read this…I fought back tears reading about this woman’s struggles.
I have almost been there. It is a very scary feeling when you know that you and your children might not have a place to sleep.
I might joke around a lot, talk about sex, and be silly most of the time, but I have struggled. I’ve been on every government assistance you can think of at some point or another. I have not known where my next meal would come from. I have picked through change just to have enough gas to get to work. I have stolen. I have run scams. I have sold things that were precious to me. These are things people do when they are desperate. These are things that people do when they are in a relationship with an abusive drug addict. These are things I don’t talk about, but should. Luckily, I have finally come to a good point in my life. And I say luckily because sometimes I think it has been just luck getting me through. I have a great home, a great job, and I am stable now. I may not have a lot, but I have enough…and I am thankful.
I had a great conversation tonight with someone (we’ll call him “T” and no, he’s not a romantic love interest) about hard journeys and realizing that they can be beautiful because of who they make you as a person. It was meaningful. Somehow, I think T was supposed to come into my life at this moment. I am a firm believer in fate. We talked about how neither one of us would go back and change anything that has happened in our life because it made us who we are now. It’s the truth. He also brought up another great point during our conversation. He said he was afraid to love again. That is a real man who can admit that, not only to himself, but to someone else. It made me think. Honestly, it made me psycho-analyze myself like I tend to do. Could I also be afraid to love again? Absolutely. When the last person that you loved hurts you…mentally, verbally, and physically for ten years…how is it not scary to love again? I have a concrete wall around me that is virtually impossible to break down. People chip away at it, but I don’t know if it will ever actually be gone. And just to get a little deeper into my psyche, my fear of being hurt is probably why I tend to date men who are not technically available. No commitment, no love, no heartbreak.
It’s time to stop that way of thinking. After all, just like T says…it’s the hard journeys that are the most beautiful. Time to hold out and find that person that will love me back the way I deserve. I am not a temporary fix to make men feel better about themselves. I am worth more than a phone call at midnight asking to come over. I am more than a secret to be kept. I do deserve love and that person (whomever it is) has no idea the love that I am capable of giving back to them. Because I will be thankful.