My Man

I read a meme this morning on Facebook that just won’t leave me alone. It’s about a woman warning another woman to stay away from her man. It’s got me really thinking about a lot of different things, perhaps things that’s been bothering me for a long time. What it boils down to is this: I suppose it hit me hard because I’ve been guilty of this action – I’ve gotten angry at the ‘other woman’, threatening her, staking my claim, and blaming her because someone I was in a relationship with cheated on me. But, I’ve grown up a lot since then and have come to see that things aren’t as black and white as I initially thought. Life never is. We should look at ourselves in these instances – not the other woman (or man) or the cheater.. but ourselves. This situation doesn’t reveal who your man is, who the other woman is, but who you are.

I’ve been cheated on and I’ve been the “other” woman. The difference isn’t in the men, but in me. I was at different places in my life for both events – and I’m at a different place now. I can’t say that I’ll never be cheated on again or that I wouldn’t ever again be the other woman. The only thing I know for sure is the woman I am now and the woman I hope to be in the future is a woman who deserves to be loved… to be loved right and completely.

Would I ever cheat? I don’t think so, only because I know me and I know how I love – I give all of me when I give my heart. But, don’t think I’m an angel. I’m not. Especially right now at this time in my life. I’m numb – and in this state, I don’t know what I’m capable of doing, either good or bad. I know there’s a hope in me that I’ll find my fire, my soul-mate, because I look for them every time I go on a new date, meet a new guy, and peer into the eyes of the stranger sitting across from me. I haven’t found him, yet. Well, that’s a lie. I found my soul-mate, but he didn’t want me. I also found a consuming fire and got burned. I loved them both with the deepest part of my heart, I still do, but I love me more and know I deserve more. Not better. They’re very good men and I don’t judge them. They both love me – as much as they can. But I deserve to be completely loved. I deserve to be wanted. I can’t make that happen, and I’ll never force or manipulate them to do it, because it wouldn’t be real, and above all… I deserve something real.

Until ‘real’ happens – what are my choices? To sit all alone with my morals to keep me company? I’ve done that for most of my life – and you know what? Moral is a cold-hearted bitch. All she’s ever really done for me was keep me lonely, keep me in pain, keep me from loving and forgiving myself and others. Or perhaps I can learn to appreciate each individual moment and the small opportunities I get to enjoy the company of someone I love, even if it means being cheated on or being the other woman? Or accept the small portion of love they’re willing to give, no more or no less, than for what it is? I don’t know. I don’t have the answers. I’d love to be able to tell you, “Hell No!” but I’m human and I’m capable of being weak. Do I want it? No. But, I won’t judge it either.

I want to believe in the fairy tale… that true love is out there waiting for me and will find me and sweep me off my feet; that I’m the woman of someone’s dream; that I’m enough; that someone will love me completely - as I deserve; that someone that will be My Man, who will see only me and never need or want another woman. But, it’s hard to keep holding onto something I’ve never experienced. No, that’s a lie too. I was loved once just as I described above, that’s how I know it’s real… but I was the one that didn’t give my heart in return… for a long time at first. I wasn’t ready. For so long, I didn’t have a heart to give. When I finally did… I had my fairy tale for two days… and then I lost it. (See Your Girl) Perhaps that’s why I cling so tightly to the hope that those I love will one day love me back – just as I finally loved back the one who loved me for so many years. Perhaps I’m just a fool. I’m sure many called my soldier a fool for loving me, for holding onto his hope that I would day love him back, but he was the most beautiful thing in the world to me.

All I know… is that I don’t know anything. I don’t know if I’ll never be the other woman again or if I can even love completely again. All I know is that today… I want to be with someone I love, someone I care about, someone that touches my heart, however I can. The thing about love – you can’t force it and you can’t make it happen. I can’t make someone love me that doesn’t and I can’t make myself love someone I don’t. We can all manipulate, but to what end? I refuse to play that game, because it will never lead to something real. Truth (all of it – including the dirty parts)– honesty – openness – and trust – leads to something real. Patience, understanding, not judging one another - leads to something real, too.

Maybe he’s not the right guy… or maybe he’s not the right guy, right now. Maybe I’m not the right girl… or maybe I’m not the right girl, right now. My soldier never gave up on me. What he left me… is this insatiable hope, this fantastic dream, a forgiving heart, an opened mind, a different way to look at the world. How can I give any less? What I wouldn’t give for more of those two days. There’s a song by Fall Out Boy called “Just One Yesterday”…. “If Heaven’s grief brings Hell’s rain, then I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday.” I can’t go back. I can’t give up hope. Someday I’ll find ‘My Man’… and he’ll find me, and I won’t worry about warning other women away. They’d never be able to pry him from me because I’d have his heart and he’d have mine.

Till next time,



Sitting, Waiting, Wishing (Song by Jack Johnson)

Planting Seeds

I can remember the first time as a child when I planted my first flower.  I was so excited. I went to the gardening center to pick out the perfect plant I wanted to grow.  With money I had earned, I bought the pot, the dirt, the feed, and read the instructions carefully to make sure I did everything just right.  I asked the clerk at the plant store what the words I didn’t understand meant, to make sure I did the proper thing.  It felt odd holding that tiny seed in my hand, knowing it was a viable object, something so insignificant, yet with the right elements, would grow into something beautiful - as long as I followed the instructions.  For a six year old, that was a lot of responsibility. 

When I got home, I circled the outside of my house several times to make sure my flower would have the best spot.  According to the planting instructions it needed to have access to full sunlight.  All day long I’d watch the sun to find out which side of the house stayed brightest the longest.  I realize now that the care I took in preparation for my plant was how I treated all things in my life.  Being the oldest sibling of five brothers with handicapped (blind father and mother with MS) parents, I had been a caregiver and nurturer my whole life. I’m not saying I never had selfish moments, but I lived with a mind frame fraught with preparation, dedication and determination.  I had no other choice. 

I found my perfect sun spot, poked my finger into the moistened and fertilized soil and carefully placed my seed inside and covered it up, making sure I didn’t pat it down and make the soil too compact for it to grow.  That moment was significant, so much so that I still remember it thirty-six years later. I felt good, important and creative in that moment as I stared down at the blackened soil.  But that moment quickly faded.  I thought the hard part was over, when it really had only just begun. 

The next few weeks turned into a cycle of waiting, worrying, pondering and fretting.  I’d worry if the sun was too hot, if the water was too little or too much, if insects would come and kill it before it had a chance to grow, what was it doing under the surface, did I forget anything, and what was taking it so long? None of that torment and torture did anything to speed up the growth of my flower, nor did it slow it down.  The only person it hurt or effected was me.

Needless to say, my plant eventually broke through the surface and bloom into a beautiful flower.  I can’t remember if it ever bloomed a second time or if I discarded and neglected it and it died, because that would be more in keeping to the way I treat plants today, but I’ll never forget that first time.

I still react the same way to other seeds I plant in my life – filled with questioning worry – but I’ve also learned to build hope at the same time.  Having seen the ‘fruit’ of my labors on too many occasions, there is always a remnant of hope that helps to ease the worry for the seeds I’m now waiting to grow in my life.  I still fret over if that seed is being properly nourished and guarded, but I’ve accepted waiting for it to bloom in its right time and right season.  While the waiting part is hard, in the end it’s worth it.

Have you planted a seed in your life?  If so, have a little patience and hope.  It is my hope your fruit/flower will be as beautiful and sweet as you expect it to be, and even more.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

http://www.tlgray.blogspot.com

http://www.authortlgray.wordpress.com