On Being Clumsy and Staying

“I AM THAT CLUMSY HUMAN, ALWAYS LOVING, LOVING, LOVING. AND LOVING. AND NEVER LEAVING.” Kahlo, Frida.

I saw this quote today, the honesty caught me off guard. I am never leaving, always wanting to stay, fix things, apologize, forgive and keep loving. Anything to keep the love.

In my mind I grew up thinking if I could love someone hard enough they could become a better version of themselves and that would in return water our love. You know how they say love makes you blind?

Well… I wasn’t, I just decided which parts of it I would deal with. Someone cheating? forgive, try to forget. Emotional abuse? apologize, do better. I wasn’t high maintenance, didn’t want to be a nag, or too much effort. I know now that that had a lot to do with how I valued myself.

I had an excuse waiting for any bad thing that might threaten to destroy my relationships because I couldn’t see myself not being with someone to share love and life with. There was a constant fight to keep together what was already erupting and ripping at the seams, that was because I was giving too much. Even if everything in my gut said let go, like that time my (then) boyfriend introduced me to someone he claimed was his cousin who later on turned out to be his girlfriend. I stayed, like i owed him something but I didn’t. I was always the joke waiting to happen. Ignoring the ticking clock in the pit of my belly about these men in sheep clothing.

My mother used to warn me about them. Her voice would soften as she would see the tear drops hanging on for dear life on my eyelids. “Mama,I love him, don’t say that.” and I did, I gave what I could, unfolding, fitting into the spaces in their lives, revealing, becoming undone and listening to their voices when their ego’s finally fell to the floor, encouraging dreams, probing, dissecting, listening to plans, giving advice, researching options, sending links, bringing treats, chilling with their friends, apologizing, not breathing enough, feeling alone, writing poetry, practicing loving and existing while basically losing myself in this person hoping they would realize what I saw in them.

In as much as I tend to deny it; I tend to fall for broken things. I find them on the floor right next to some of my pieces, I offer them help instead of working on myself. I forget that I can’t keep giving while there is nothing being offered. I believe love is the cure but right now it is the drug I find myself detoxing from. Now every time I say ‘I love you.’, It means I care for you outside my space.

It doesn’t mean I am going to stay.  It doesn’t mean I am setting myself on fire for you.

Now that I am tired, spent and almost out of love, I understand why, or at least I am starting to understand why. I am my mothers daughter, we fight, we are strong, we pretend, we pray, we stay. We stay. We stay. On some days it is good and it almost makes up for the bad days, so we stay longer, we push on, we believe in love, we don’t give up, we cry with smiles on our faces, we bend, we never, ever break, even after there is nothing left to give we stay. We stay. It took her over 10 years to leave. I know her bravery has taught me to recognize when I should too, this life is too short to make a prison out of love.

Isn’t it scary when you evolve then start to see traits of your former self in other people?
When you finally understand why people thought you were crazy for staying or even trying?
Isn’t it beautiful when you don’t need anyone’s approval just to be you and unapologetic?
Isn’t it lovely to not be so clumsy anymore?

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