I’m fucking broken. And angry. I’m confused and I feel so utterly misunderstood… but one thing has become very clear… where we went wrong.
We are all a bunch of liars. In relationships… You can’t really tell the other person the truth until you are no longer afraid of losing them. You have to let go of that pressing need for them to be there with you, that heart-stopping fear that creeps in when you think about your life without them. That has to be gone. You have to sit on the edge of the idea that they could cease to exist in your life… and the idea of existing without them cannot make you feel that you will break… like you can’t go on… like you can’t make it without them.
Because, if there’s one thing that true intimacy demands it’s vulnerable, raw, uncomfortable honesty. We think we understand honesty. We think by saying, “you hurt me when you did that thing last week,” we are being the most honest version of ourselves. But, we keep a lot from the person we’re with. We keep those little desires that we think they can’t fulfill. We keep things inside that we think will cause them to run away from us or become angry with us… or that might hurt their feelings. We don’t show our true vulnerable selves because we are afraid that at our most raw, we will be abandoned.
And, so, we take these little concessions. We say it’s not important that he know the ins and outs of the work we do. We say it’s fine if I’m not having a sexual desire fulfilled by her. We tell ourselves this is all fine… that it’s okay… because, in our desire to be with this person, we easily forget our desire to stay true to ourselves.
We hide our darkness and our fears and our desire, because it’s easier that way. It’s easier than the risk of losing them. But, true love demands vulnerability. It insists on raw honesty. In fact, it seems those are the only things it does demand of us. It requires us to stand in front of the person we love and say, “This is all of me. I don’t know if you will still love me after I give you a tour through the darkened corners of my heart, but I have to show you anyway because I need you to know me, I need you to see me.”
We say we want to be seen, but we do not let ourselves be seen. And God damnit… it is not possible to hold on to a fear of losing someone and have the desire to be seen. Fear and desire can’t coexist. Because, no matter who you are or what you think you know, your truth will always be filtered through that fear. Your words will be coated with it.
Everything you say and do, every truth you think is coming from you, will first be propelled through that fear. It is never a pure truth when it has been stained and glossed by the fear of abandonment or the fear of rejection.
When we can finally move directly through the fear and come out the other side of it, we can speak our truth, uncoated and pure, to the human we so desperately want to be seen by.
Moving towards fear looks like the edge of a cliff. Over that cliff is the darkest most hollow abyss. I see it every time I step into my vulnerability and share that with him.
I would always hope he would catch me before the darkness of that abyss swallowed me whole but I was never sure if he would be there the next time. I was never sure if who I am at the core of my being would be who he wanted next to him at night.
The moment I would begin to worry that he may leave me or it may end or when I would convince myself that I needed him in order to be okay, my heart would begin to close and i’d start telling these half-truths and the distance between us just became further and further until it was too late.
Because now he doesn’t believe anything I ever tell him is the truth. When my soul would rip open and I would pour it out to him… he became indifferent. He had convinced himself that he saw me clearly but he did not.
Perhaps neither of us see ourselves clearly.
The saddest word
in the whole wide world
is the word almost.
He was almost in love.
She was almost good for him.
He almost stopped her.
She almost waited.
He almost saw the truth.
They almost made it.