Hope is hard to kill, crush, destroy, even dissipate, hope is strong, maybe the strongest thing in the universe, maybe the very glue that holds us all, maybe the bones, the filling the in bones, the morrow of all of our skeletons.
Oh man…I have been turning an “I’m back” blog post over and over in my mind for a couple of months now. I have thought about several different approaches to take, how to explain where I went, and where I went wrong, and why I am here again, still here…but I didn’t have it in me. I didn’t want to post any bitter seeds, because, you see, this blog is about hope, and for a split second, my hope evaporated. But funny thing, hope is resilient. Hope is hard to kill, crush, destroy, even dissipate, hope is strong, maybe the strongest thing in the universe, maybe the very glue that holds us all, maybe the bones, the filling the in bones, the morrow of all of our skeletons.
So, I paused. I regrouped. I waited, knowing that hope always comes home. It’s a good thing too. No one needed to read those first evolutions, those “there are no men who _______” (fill in the blank with whatever the man didn’t do, or did do for that matter) or the “love is a lie” rendition, or the “I am ever dating again” version. Ugh, no. I am not in high school, I cannot be THAT angst-filled, at least not publicly.
In the waiting, was real waiting, and a little bit of reforming, and a little bit of bargaining, and a lot of wondering and supposing and planning and the denying but most importantly—the realizing.
It’s on that note that I am typing this post, the realizing. The ugh-inducing light-bulb moment when I learned the lesson from the experience, and that lesson is that I have a problem. It’s dead-end relationships.
Yes friends, relationships that go nowhere, that is the theme of the romantic/potentially-romantic/pretend-to-be-romantic relationships I am engaged in. Every last one of them.
The bread-crumbing friend, the aloof friend, the honest-about-not-wanting-to-be-in-relationships-but weird-when-I-am-in-one friend, the ex jockeying to be a friend—they all have one thing in common. They are going nowhere. Nowhere towards the goal previously stated at the inception of this blog anyway. Yet, they are oddly comforting. They are strangely magnetic. Like a boomerang, I go back, unspoken hope still hanging in the air, thick with unpopped bubbles of disappointment, I go back. Backwards is not forward. Nor helpful. But like the quilt on your grandma’s bed, it is somehow comforting, Warm, safe, familiar. A nice place to pause when recuperating, a place where your vulnerability is not real vulnerability. A place to pretend to move on while not really moving on. And probably destructive, at least a little. But for now, it’s all I am prepared for.
My analysis of this is incomplete. I am not sure what it all means or how to change the pattern, but at least I know it is a thing, and I can think about it and make better decisions for myself going forward. You know, maybe.
So, that’s where it’s at. And I will get back on this blog bandwagon, with some flashbacks for context. Until next time, stay hopeful!