There is really nothing hopeless about risking your heart again after you’ve had it smashed to pieces. In fact I think we should change the term to hopeful romantic. Only someone who is full of hope would be willing to readily bare their tender heart to another after it's been mistreated. I can relate to Michael Buble’s lyrics “I’ve had my heart broken so many times I stopped keeping track.” Yet, could anyone really call this a weakness? I’ve had my heart broken because I’ve been willing to love. The day that my heart stops willingly giving love is the day it stops beating and not a minute sooner.
In the midst of my heartaches, and most likely because of them, I have learned to love myself so much deeper than I could have imagined. You see if my heart had never been broken, I would never have known how strong I was, how resilient I could be. I have a much wiser heart than I did in those early years, when I was attempting to contort myself to what I thought they wanted or needed. I foolishly allowed those heart aches to make me fall out of love with myself. When we change ourselves for someone else, we lose the fundamental love that exists inside of us. The voice that we wake up to everyday, the one that tells us how perfect we are before we even wipe the drool from our faces.
I only started listening to this voice in the last year or so. Up until that point I would laugh at her brazen appraisal of my perfection. I’d snare at her compliments of my effortless beauty, my poetic soul, and my lovable quirks. But on the eve on my latest heartbreak, when I would sleep with a teddy bear clutched against my heart as I was sure it would otherwise split in two, I started listening. I let that steady voice of love guide me out of the darkness, out of what I know now will be my deepest heartbreak. It’s not that I think I won’t ever love that hard again, I know I will and hopefully harder even. Yet that heartbreak was not just for the loss of another’s love. It was for all the years I didn’t listen to that voice. All the years I thought I had to prove something to those who dared to love me. For all the years I didn’t really love myself. That, that heartache will never come again.
So as I have ventured out into the world of love again. It has not been without mild trepidation. My mind has kept me vigil to my old patterns, it has had to gently remind me that it is not my job to ensure someone loves me, it is only my job to keep loving myself. As a hopeful romantic I will keep showing my heart, I won’t hold it back, or resist my feelings. I came here to spread love, to be love, and to be loved. I will keep my hope high that my heart will find a resting place where love is mutual and deep and begins within each of us and spreads gently to the other.