“Are you dating anyone?” he asked.
“No” I said, feeling a sudden and powerful discomfort.
“Why not?” he probed, not unkindly.
“I don’t really have time,” I said. “Between having the girls five days a week and running a business…” I trailed off, perhaps knowing it’s a complete lie.
You make time for what you want.
I didn’t share the words that were resting on my tongue – my heart is not available.
I have packaged it up and left it resting on the doorstep of someone who doesn’t want to open it. Could there be a better way to protect it, then to leave it where it will stay safely and tightly wrapped?
Last spring I posted this image on Facebook with the caption:
“Sometimes the anticipation of something beautiful happening can be just as sweet as the actual happening.”
Sweet sentiment, but…hmmm, it occurs to me that this is a particularly enticing notion for someone who has been disillusioned, disappointed and wounded.
Because deep down we’re sure that the reality of love will never be as sweet as the idea of it.
I spent twelve years with a man I may never have really known. I walked away from our marriage with two beautiful children, a smattering of scars, and a some deeply painful questions. If I never really knew him, could I have ever really loved him? Could he have ever really loved me? Do I even know what love is?
Here’s the truth –
I don’t trust my own heart to know what’s true.
So, there’s safety there – there in the almost, not yet, someday…
I see it now as it is – a hiding place, and perhaps – hopefully – also a healing place.
Revealing this to myself doesn’t change anything.
Not today, anyway.
Today I’m much too busy.
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk that it took to blossom.” – Anais Nin