Love isn’t safe…
I think that’s the newest thought to stick with me that I can’t shake… because the truth is, it isn’t. I see love being like mankind in the sense, it was supposed to be a simple experience. You know? Black and white… no grey, Adam and Eve before the apple type thing. But then we had the apple and it opened eyes and minds to so many other things and now love has become this complex idea I can’t help but crave to understand. The latest understanding is that love is unsafe; which is weird because that’s a top 5 desire on my love list. Safety.
Right now I wish for a safe space… I’m craving to feel safe. Not like, I don’t wanna be worried someone is gonna kill me safe, but “I wanna be able to take my wig off” safe. Now don’t laugh or make fun of me because I’m serious. That wig off thing is a real metaphor. I mean yeah it’s literal too but when I say it, there are so many ways I want to feel free in my vulnerability with a man. Beyond taking the wig off and him seeing me in my straight backs, I wanna be able to love how I love… and not apologize for it… or not feel like they lack the capacity to hold me. I want to feel like it’s okay to show up for someone and it not be a “I didn’t ask you too” kinda thing “so I’m not responsible for your disappointment if I don’t reciprocate”. I want to feel like the possibilities are endless… no restrictions. I wanna feel safe to address conflict without feeling like I’m antagonizing when all I’m really trying to do is learn and improve. Most importantly, I wanna know that if there comes a moment when it’s too overwhelming to keep it together and I break, I’m breaking where I can be loved back together.
While safety is one thing I want, love is not safe. There is always a risk with love. A high one at that when dealing with some one you like… and the more you grow in like/love, the greater the risk you take. I mean think about it, the greatest love story on earth results in someone’s death. Jesus dying is like the ultimate form of love in my eyes. I don’t think literally anyone has to die for me to have love, but I do think there will be a lot of things that will suffer, like egos for an example.
Let me be dramatic for like two seconds, but I feel like I’ve died a thousand deaths with this thing called love. Now, not really a thousand because my heart hasn’t known that many, but I’ve both died and grieved enough times. When it ends, I grieve the same person over and over again. The grief is the realization that those boys/men have never been “it”. It isn’t until it dies that I grieve for “him”. But, nonetheless, with time I get back out there and open myself to the risk and possibilities of love. It’s insane, annoying, and exhilarating all at the same time. I don’t seem to get enough and I don’t think I ever will because there’s this crazy thought that “him” whoever “he” is, will have been worth the thousand deaths, griefs, and resurrections I’ve had to encounter. Jesus pleaseeee don’t let me down.
Love isn’t safe, but the possibilities that could come from it tend to outweigh the risks of being damaged from it. You love with the risk they might not love you back, but you hope they will. I’ve learned so much from Jesus.
Love well, love free, love open, love always.
Dear Hearts, Happy Resurrection.