Bitter Love

I started to write this blog on the wonders of Yonis and then about universal love and then about my recent badass boundaries. But what is coming through is betrayal. And as much as all those other things are nice and true, I gotta do what I seem to spout a lot; feel and keep it real. So now the words are flowing because I am letting whatever emotion is there fill the space. And I risk it coming across as indulgent indignation, stagnant bitterness. Something not useful to anyone, that will leave a metallic taste in the mouth and post-reading fatigue. But it may also deeply resonate. So I will do what heals me, trusting that the collective heals from that act of laying it all out there to be viewed.

I don't want to be feeling as much as I am feeling. I oscillate between hating this man for getting me to love him and then loving him for all the reasons I always did. And when it feels that I have found a happy indifferent, that is just steeped in turmoil too because it is a total negation of how strong the love/hate is within me. I call it groundedness or balance, obtained from meditating or non-duality or loving presence. But really there is no escaping these feels. I can dance, I can meditate, I can cut out inflammatory foods and people, but the Universe keeps bringing me back to these emotions. Fucking Feel she is saying. Grieve, rage, tear up valuable things once dear, talk shit, shout profanities into the wind. Do nonsensical things that seem counterproductive but wholly intuitive.

Just for today I let go of being helpful to anyone else. I release my responsibility to hold it together, to be enlightened about something, anything. I stop myself after I express my messy feelings. Let them hang there in awkwardness. The nervous laugh I am known for is not there to smooth the discomfort. I have no "But, it's okay..." followed by some life lesson tutorial to myself and others. It's just shitty. I feel shitty. Because I loved and still love. Because I felt I found something I did not even know I was seeking and now I am left with an absence where no longing used to be. Because LOVE. Because it was never clear to me that I wanted babies and then suddenly it was and it was his babies I wanted. And he went away and now my womb just wants to beat him up. Beat his own reproductive organs to a pulp. For making such a warm overture of love and then turning on a dime. For leaving me out here tender as fuck, having shown everyone how truly vulnerable and prey to love I am.

But he doesn't owe me. He is not responsible for being in the same place as me emotionally or physically. He does not owe me comfort in my sorrow, negation of his own feelings to ease my own. And he definitely does not owe me a love child, although my body is strongly bucking against that proclamation. In the absence of him owing me, and me being able to clearly see that I would not want anything less than his full yes, my anger burns stronger because there is no target. And I have done enough of my own work to have not turned the rage and regret on myself, thank God. So with no satisfying target for the anger to lash out on, turns out it enjoys shapeshifting into love. That anger and love are actually the same damn thing. That the root of the anger is witnessing anything that is not made of pure, brave love.

In true benevolent, mysterious Universe form, this week she has gifted me a new lover that likes to fight and cuddle in equal measure. The first time we hung out we talked about being angry for so many years. Meanwhile we both radiate love. And he said that they are the same. That isn't anger just an expression of outrage at anything that is not love. And I looked at him and felt him and the Universe resounded that she sent me Kali Ma to see the fierceness in gentleness and the tender hearted destroyer of all that isn't truth. And the truth is love. It is the only thing we are left to survive with when our whole mother fucking world burns to the ground. And it works out perfectly, because as we go about the necessary step of rebuilding, turns out the only raw materials worth a damn are made from pure love.