Love really is a verb

It's not often that a blog post moves me to tears, but this one did. In it, WillThink4Wine  writes so eloquently about the true meaning of love. I couldn't agree with her more when she writes that "I believe that when someone really loves you, really values you deeply, the words "I Love You" need never be spoken. You will feel the love, all the way to the core of your being."

I was reminded of the night I finally realized my marriage was over. I'd asked my husband if he loved me. He thought about it for a while (not a good sign), and then he said "Love is the most overused and misunderstood word in the English language." I remember wishing that he'd just stabbed me with a knife. I think it would have hurt less. The fact that he couldn't answer the question directly told me all I needed to know at that time. Since then, I've realized that what was more significant was the fact that I needed to ask the question at all. He was being as honest and he knew how to be. And as painful as it was in that moment, and in the weeks and months to come, his honesty saved me from a lifetime of pain.

Thankfully, I've moved on, both emotionally and spiritually. And by the grace of God, I now know that I am capable of giving and receiving love, from the right people in the right circumstances. WillThink4Wine's post reminded me to embrace my relationships with an open mind and an open heart, remembering that not everybody who says "I love you" really does, and that sometimes those who really do, don't say it with those words. It also reminded me that the same holds true for me.

Photo by Fe 108AUMS at Flickr.com

Loneliness hurts

I saw the headline of an article earlier this week that suggests that having a "broken heart" can be physically painful. I think the same is true of profound loneliness.

I think there's a common misconception about what loneliness looks like.  That may be why so many people are in denial about their own loneliness or the loneliness of the people around them who appear to be anything but lonely.

Yes, I have friends, but most of my closest friends live too far away to be able to visit. Yes, I have hobbies and interests (both old and new) that occupy a lot of my time. Yes, I'm employed and interact with colleagues and clients every day. Yes, thankfully, my mother is alive and well and lives nearby so we talk almost every day. Yes, I enjoy solititude, at times, and I enjoy my own company (although I haven't always).  How, then, could I possibly feel lonely?

A busy life does not always equate with a fulfilling one.  Most of my days are as busy as I want (or need) them to be, and there are plenty of people that I could spend time with if I want to.  But that's not what I want.  What I want is companionship, a sense of connection and emotional intimacy. I want to go to a great movie and then talk about it for hours over dinner. I want to cook a great meal, knowing that someone is there to share it with me.  I want to listen to jazz, and maybe even dance, at a dimly lit jazz club. I want to play Scrabble late into the night, with someone who can actually beat me some of the time. I want to share my thoughts, my dream,s and my fears with someone who'll listen with open ears and an open heart. I want to give of myself to someone who'll appreciate my efforts and not take me for granted. I want to have plans to look forward to next weekend or next month. I want to make memories.

Can't I go to a movie, cook a good meal, listen to great music, e-mail my friends, or play Scrabble on my computer by myself? Of course I can.  And I do. I can also knit, read, take pictures, blog, surf the net and work on one of the many book projects that I have planned. And I do. Some days I'm perfectly fine with that, but even then, I'm still lonely as hell. It's as if I'm all dressed up, with nowhere to go. I think Vincent van Gogh summed it up when he said that "One may have a blazing hearth in one's soul, and yet no one ever comes to sit by it."

Photo by Rogerio Zgiet on Flickr.com