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I am loveable.
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I am worth the effort.
There are times when I absolutely hate the fact that I am a
hopeless romantic; times when I wish I could simply eradicate this from my
character. I imagine, with practice, I could. But there are other times when I
love this about me.
Being a romantic means that I believe in the impossible;
that I believe in miracles; that I believe the extraordinary can happen in real
life even against the most seemingly impossible of odds. I enjoy thinking that,
like my beloved Gatsby, I possess an “extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic
readiness such as [Carraway] have never found in any other person and which it
is not likely [he] shall ever find again.”
I want to believe in Alchemy – in the notion that if and
when we believe, God and the universe conspires to help us find the treasure we
seek – that which we desire most in our hearts.
All things considered, God has blessed me with incredible
riches.
Despite the fact that I am a child of divorce, I have an
amazing mother. My mother always made me the primary focus of her life. There
was never a day of my life when I wasn’t told I was loved or that she was proud
of me. I never wanted for anything. I never knew what the ache of hunger felt
like in my belly.
While my relationships might have been short-lived and
unorthodox, at best, I have been blessed with two amazing daughters. Brown-eyed
beauties who are so snuggly and loving – intelligent and funny – that I
sometimes wonder what role I have played in how incredible they are. Slowly, I am learning to give myself credit
for the love and nurturing I offer them. The perfect parent I am not, nor would
I pretend to be. But I love them unconditionally and without limits. This has
to be worth something.
So I sit here and I feel selfish for wanting more. For
feeling like there is something missing in my life; like life remains, in some
way, incomplete. Yet no matter how diligently I try to ignore this void, to
stuff it away, it is there.
I desperately desire to be loved. To feel loved. To be
someone’s heart’s desire. To be longed for and sought after – the pearl of
great price.
The Alchemist was
truly a life changing book for me; however, sometimes I wonder if I can’t
separate fact from fiction – reality from dreams. And yet when I read this book
it seemed to affirm for me every ‘romantic’ notion I have clung to my entire
life.
“In alchemy, it’s called the Soul of the World. When you
want something with all your heart, that’s when you are closest to the Soul of
the World. It’s always a positive force.”
Romantic love. Married love. Best friend love. Unconditional
love. This is what I desire with all my heart; what I have desired for as long
as I can remember. In my quest for this, I must say I feel more spiritually
connected to God than I have felt in a long time. I think I have finally
learned and understand what it means to surrender.
Obviously, I would not have my daughters without the choices
I made in my life; but those were my choices. As insane as this might seem to
some people, I am really trying to allow God to lead me in the choices I make.
I desire a lasting love relationship. Not one that is going to fracture and
fall apart when life enters stages of difficulty or throws in obstacles that
must be hurtled.
In those times, I want someone who is going to hold my hand
so that we can overcome these things together.
“When a person really desires something, all the universe
conspires to help that person realize his dream.”
I so desperately want to believe that this is true, but my
beacon of hope dims a bit every day. The green light at the end of the dock
becomes more difficult to spot through the fog.
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