Dying to be loved

Two years and seven months ago, everyone I was close to decided to walk away from me. My husband, mother, sister, every close friend I'd ever had, the man I was madly in love with. It almost killed me.

I think I could have recovered, if that had been the end of it. The thing that has almost killed me this time around, wasn't that one big blow, it's been the thousands of tiny blows in the 31 months since June 1, 2009. Because they keep coming back. And telling me they love me.

I've always had a problem holding grudges and staying away from people I loved, no matter what happened or how much I got hurt. Especially if there was any chance they still loved me back. And obviously I've had a hard time letting go of the past. The past holds so many good memories for me, and a lot of love.

The problem with letting these people come back over and over and try to tell me they still love me is that they have proved over and over that their particular brand of love is toxic. It's been poison to me. I've been lucky enough to replace most of thse relationships, in a way, with new ones but I've failed to give those people the same space in my head and heart that my past relationships occupied. Maybe because the old relationships were still taking up most of that space.

I realize now though, that I shouldn't have to fight so hard for a space in someone's life. If they love you, they will make room for you. You shouldn't have to change who you are to deserve love, the people who really love you will accept you at face value. And you shouldn't have to always pretend you're strong, and everything is ok, because sometimes it's not. And people who love you for real are the ones still standing next to you in the bad times, as much as they do in the good ones, maybe even more.

I lost a couple of family members through that time. I have amazing family somewhere else, but it still feels lonely because they are so far away. So my best friend shared his family with me, and they've adopted me. I'm always invited for the holidays, and Sunday night dinners. His parents check up on me when I'm going through difficult times. His daughter tells me she loves me all the time.

Hands down, I have better, stronger, more loyal friends now that I ever did in my life. Even though I haven't been one tenth of the friend to them as I was to my old friends.

The man I'm with refuses to walk away, despite all the recent trauma, even though we haven't been together very long and he acknowledges the last two men in my life got to be with a stronger, happier version of me. He made me a coffee table for Christmas (this is apparently one of the perks of dating an artist). Here is someone trying to make my home a better place, when the last man I loved, the one who I believed was The One, just kept trying to tear my home apart. Which, in the end, he successfully did.

The say you can't pick who you love. But I'm starting to think maybe that's not true. Maybe it's crucial that we do pick who we love, intelligently, proactively and for the right reasons, because the wrong kind of love can tear your heart to pieces.