Why is it so hard to tell someone we love that we love them? It's never a secret, because everything in what we do screams the words we are hesitant to say.
Forty years ago, I was crazy in love with a man I thought was the love of my life. In the two years we were together, he never once took me on a real date -- not to a movie or a party, never gave me a present or even a compliment, and it didn't matter. It felt so right in his arms that I ignored the truth that he did not love me. I never said it to him. He never said it to me. I was sure that he loved me, but just didn't want to say it.
At a particularly traumatic moment, I needed to ask him if he loved me. I asked. He answered.
"No."
"Will you ever love me?" I asked.
"No."
Perhaps if I HAD told him that I loved him sooner, I would have learned that he did not love me sooner, and I would have made better choices than the crazy ones made by that heartbroken, silly girl.
If I had been broken sooner, might I have healed sooner?
Years later, I saw this amazing pen drawing by a local artist in The Blue Bean, titled "When I Was Broken." And there I am.
So what if I got hurt, got broken. Done is done. Suck it up! Say it! If you are hurting, you are alive!
At a particularly traumatic moment, I needed to ask him if he loved me. I asked. He answered.
"No."
"Will you ever love me?" I asked.
"No."
If I had been broken sooner, might I have healed sooner?
Years later, I saw this amazing pen drawing by a local artist in The Blue Bean, titled "When I Was Broken." And there I am.
So what if I got hurt, got broken. Done is done. Suck it up! Say it! If you are hurting, you are alive!
