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When There is No Hope There is Only Love

 

My Confession

A recent stint in depression has hit both me and my work hard. I’ve spent the past few days meditating on Love, my mental illness, my game, parenthood, and sea of failed relationships. I think about the people who leave my life in swarms, who place the fair conditions on me that if I can’t be normal that I am too toxic or too weird to be in their life. So I meditate on love and kindness and try to undo all that I’ve learned in insecurity, and embrace security. I listen to motivational tapes, read self-help books, I distract myself, bury myself into my work, even Buddhism. I shift focus. I smile, I laugh. I receive a text on my birthday that there is no hope for me and that the doors are forever closed and that she will never allow herself to let me into her heart again because she believes she is inherently ‘bad’ and will not take part in hurting me anymore. No matter how much I grow, learn, no matter how genuine my heart is, or how strong I become, I am not the thing she wants. That it will always be her using me to scratch an itch, never her loving me. Yes, look at me, falling apart over a woman who has never treated me with respect, who has from the start told me she didn’t care about me and would abandon me if push came to shove and who has time and time again thrown me under the bus to protect her social status. Who had presented to the world that I was insane, that I was no one, and presented to me that only what she said to me not what she said to others mattered. But what she said was always in flux, bitter and filled with swords one day, neutral the next. Filled with promises and dreams, but always standing me up or filling it with something else. I had to beg to be seen by her.

To me she said she cared, to everyone else she shared in their gossip and talk about me, told them lies, painted it as though she was a victim of my obsession, but never revealed the conversations where she said she needed me in her life. To me, she made promises and shared dreams of adventures, and enjoyed my dreams discussing them. Flip flopping back and forth weaving a web of lies and illusions. She pretended to want me in her life, only to reveal one day that she had never wanted me at all, and just enjoyed the companionship I had to offer. Nostalgia she says, does not mean want. She offers me the opportunity to be her fuck buddy, friends with benefits? I decline, remembering how painful it felt to be an object, to desire connection, to search for her heart and only feel pain. Odd as it was, I loved her, it wasn’t her behaviour, but her underneath it all, and the yearning that if I could reach her, if I could reach her underneath it all that she would reach me, and that in that reaching we wouldn’t have to be alone. Why my heart wanted it to be her? I will never know.

The back and forth behaviour that she warned me about still would have me on my knees, and I would stand up again and again, promising to be stronger, getting stronger a little bit every day. I realized at the end of the day all I wanted was for her to look upon me with the eyes of love and say, I want you. I may not be able to be there right now, but I want you. You are no less, you are no different, even if we have to be far apart, I want you in my life and I do love you. And I carried on in the hope, that one day, after all the blood and toil, she’d look at me, genuinely look into my eyes, and she would see me, and I would see her, and she’d say this and mean it. Not just something she was trained to say, or learned to say, or kinda felt but didn’t. But to say it and really mean it. I yearned from it, and not just from her, but from the world.

There were days when she would say something close to it, but if she ever did she would take it back the next. Later she would tell me she left me because this was who she was, she could never be anything different, and it broke her heart to see me suffer. “I’m not going to change, I don’t want the things you want, and I won’t take part of hurting you”, she goes on, “I want you to be loved by someone with all their heart, I don’t want you to have to deal with this, I want you to have happiness. I don’t want you to chase after someone who isn’t chasing you back, who doesn’t have a reason to chase you back. I miss us, but I’ve shut the door forever. Love someone else.”

I remember in the earlier days I would cry and beg her to let me go, it hurt too much to hold onto someone who couldn’t love me. I can’t, she said. I can’t. But even when she did, I struggled to do the same. Now it’s my turn to let her go. Be there as my friend, she begs me. I don’t need a lover, I have one, but I desperately need a friend. I have so few close friends in my life, I need you as my friend. To catch me if I fall. I’m terrible with relationships, I want the one I have to work. Support me from afar, but if you can’t even do that without me hurting you, then for you and for me I have to let what’s left of this go.

So I do. I struggle with my own demons on my own, but I cannot turn away her heart’s request. I call myself her Raven, and she dubs me Diaval. I stay close beside her, trying to learn who I am, and the demons I fight and battle alone. She watches, never coming to my rescue, and I drown trying to figure out how to save myself from me.

The Truth Is

Even as a mother protects with her life Her child, her only child, so with a boundless heart should one cherish all living beings.

Sutta Nipata 1.8

 

The truth is, I am no more capable of romantic love, than she says she is capable of authentic love. I love her, in a way that has nothing to do with romance and friendship. The second truth is, I am not capable of basic friendship to most people. I love in a way that is different in reflection to society. I love in a way that society shuns and would crucify me for. I love in a way that society says is wrong. Without boundaries, without walls, blind to social constructs, with true and complete freedom, without condition.

I’ve tried to go through romance to reach her beyond this because I yearn to be loved from a genuine place that I struggle to hold within myself. The world is a mirror and in my mirror I see the loop of rejection, pain, and abandonment. I see the constructs we’ve made, and we believe and we make real. It doesn’t matter if the world believes a lie, if the majority believes it and supports it, this lie becomes their truth, becomes the reality.

Friendship and Friend zones hurt because Society views friendship at a lower level, they are sacred because we don’t need to value them close to our heart, we don’t have to protect them or cherish them, there’s no “security” in the ones we give to ‘love’, no social constructs and laws protecting friendship the way they do contracts involving love. We can drop them without warning, we can throw them away, we can stratify them and stretch them apart. You abandon your friends not your spouse, you break commitments and promises that have meaning with your spouse—not to your friends, their pain doesn’t matter. You love your spouse, not your friends. You care for your friends, but you don’t love them. You would stand up for your spouse or a child and take a bullet for them, but society shuns the idea of taking one for your friend. Such acts of courage are called selflessness and bravery, we admire it in people because we would never do the same. Your spouse is your #1 family, your friends whether we agree or not are simply followers and only if they themselves are not following their spouse. You build love and legacies with the people you love, you leave behind the people you don’t.

If the entire world knew how to love without walls, knew how to care without segregation wouldn’t it be better? But instead we say, you can be loved, and you can’t, you are worthy of my love and respect, and you are not. Then I would never have any need to seek a relationship out of anyone because love would be everyone, abundant, in everything, shining through every single heart. I could drink from the rivers, I could dance. If the world is a mirror, I could look out onto the world and see love reflecting from it, back onto me, and my love in myself would be self-affirmed.

But life doesn’t work that way. Life can only reflect back what ‘we’ see. If we want the world to reflect and glow with Love we have to correct our vision and our eyes, and to do that we have to become Love and to do that, I truly believe that we have to emanate unconditional love and happiness that is self-illuminating, that is not dependent on any one or thing.

It is for this reason that I believe that the greatest gift she could ever give me is closing her doors and showing me how cold the world really is. Through her I see the closed doors of the world reflecting back at me, and through the world, I see me, my heart, closed, my windows closed. This is the wrong way to Love, not the right way. And I will spend an eternity learning how to love. I took up the Buddhist’s path because I don’t want it to take a hundred more doors for me to see what it means to love, truly, genuinely love without need or desire, without want, from anyone or anything. To allow it flood in and heal me, to allow myself to be as such that I can contain both realities. The reality of the loveless world we live in now and the reality of the world full of love that exists shining beneath everyone and thing.

My goal is to embrace this love, to stop reaching people through the shadows of romantic love and everything else, to love genuinely love, from within myself, without need. It’s hard. This path that I walk and preach is hard, I want to quit so often because it hurts. If it were so easy everyone would take up this path and love the way I speak of, to love as Jesus Loves, to love as God Loves, to love as Buddha loves, but it’s not easy, that’s why it’s a practice, that’s we struggle with it, and that’s why not everyone does it.

The greatest gift she could ever give to me was to let go and stick to her choice so that I could learn to love as I am meant to love, not through one singular person or entity. Not through need, or desire, or from a place of lack, but from a place of abundance, of needlessness. To be to others what I seek from myself. This is hard. And I struggle with it, but it is my path, and I walk it and every encounter I have will always lead me back to this most singular path. There is no greater thing than this. This is my work, and everything else will always distract me from it, and I will always distract others from my work if I pursue them. Consequently I pursue myself, whole-heartedly. No matter how hard it is, no matter how much I want to quit. I pursue me, and being one with myself, and the universe, the reality of it. We’re all dripping in roles and acting and plays, but underneath it all, underneath the grime, there we are. And that’s where I want to be, where I’m trying to be. But right now there are moments when I have to admit, it is simply hard, and just plain hurts.

 

The Struggle Within Society

I will always struggle to understand the high demands of society and the games we play. I never could fit societies shoes so I had to custom make my own, and at times I had to go without.

I cannot understand society or my place in it. I’ve spent my life trying to make sense of society. Social made-up constructs that determine our roles, and who we can love, and how we can love, and who we must cut out, and why. Constructs like Marriage, and 9-to-5 jobs, and personality and Ego, and Education, and economies. I would sit reading day in and day out about how it all works, and love. Romantic Love, what is it, is it real, and what is beyond Love. And what is beyond us. What are we made of, and how. I looked out my window at the world and yearned to be a part of a world where I’ve never felt like I quite belong.

I hid my heart and struggles from people for fear that people would never be capable of loving me, the real me, whoever it was, how could they? How could anyone love the real me, when they spend their lives unable to love their real selves, unable to look beneath it. They can’t love me, they can’t know me, if they can’t even love themselves, if they don’t even know who they are beneath all their roles, and make-up, and games. And I can’t love them if I am blinded by all of, if I keep trying to meet them through it. And I’ve struggled to let go of it all, and struggled to wipe away all that is not me, to find all that I am, and consequently be at peace in a world that is unable to break away from the game, that doesn’t want to and has no motivating factors to. And sometimes I wonder if I don’t want to break away from the game so much that I want someone to play the game, a game, any game that sees the truth and the reality beneath it with me; and yet when the veil is pulled that too becomes pain.

It is in the darkness of my hopelessness, it is my running from the games that hurt me so much to play that I ask myself, Who am I? I am Love. But was I really? All that Love was fueled by hope.
When she texted me, “Stop hoping, there is no hope.”
I realized Hope and Optimism is what drives me, the idea that we can dream any dream we want—but if you take away my Hope, if you fill me with hopelessness, what is there? There is only myself, there is only the present. Why does it feel bad? If I rub my fingers across the grime on the window and peel it all away, even without Hope, I am still me, and what is me, beyond me? Love. I am still Love, and yes. Being Love hurts when we’re still struggling with the social constructs of what it means to really love.

I have spent this entire journey wiping away the grime of everything that is not me, unlearning society, emptying my cup, ungrowing, undoing everything Society told me that I am not. Even my mental illness which rests on the surface layers interacting with the world through my thoughts is not me, if I wipe away the grime, who am I? What am I? All the things I am running from, underneath the surface is the nothingness, the emptiness, The Love. I’m still Love.

Yes it’s hard, this path I’ve chosen is hard. Yes it’s going to continue to be hard. Yes there will be hard times, and good times, they’re not bad they’re not good, they’re just times. I am yearning always yearning to go back to conditions, to go back to false love and pretend. But like her decision to never go back, I have to be firm to never go back to a time when the love I had and was giving was not real. This is real love, this is true, this is authentic, it doesn’t get any more purer than this, no matter how lonely it feels.

I have to be firm. I can’t let myself love anyone from that false place, that place is where the bipolar and insanity is at, that place is where the insecurity and the thoughts and false love is at. This place is beneath all the layers of my thoughts, is where it’s real. It’s not friendship, it’s not romance, I hate people calling me that as though that is what I am when like my gender I feel like I am beyond all that, maybe not in their eyes but for me and my relationship with the world and people I am fluid, ever-changing always present, and yet always constant at the same time. I am what’s behind the veil, the mystery, I am Love, and this is it. Whether people close their doors to it, or look away, this is who I am, it’s where I will always be, like air, I simply exist, being breathed in and being breathed out, it’s what I am underneath it all. I am them, and they are me.

This is it. It’s always going to be it. And it’s always going to be a struggle a fight to maintain it, to walk the path, it’s never going to be easy. Being who we truly are without running. But that doesn’t mean I have to give up, that doesn’t mean I have to stop trying. This is it. And I’m still here, and this is me. This is who I am.

I renounce the social constructs of relationships, and all that are contained within them. I am not a social construct or a concept. I am beyond that.

There is never going to be another relationship and if anyone truly ever loves me or even just genuinely cares about me. With their entire heart or otherwise, they will never ask me to be in a romantic relationship with them, and I will never ask them, and more than that, they will never ask me or box me into categories and boxes, like “lover” or “friend”, maybe to them, but I am way more than just a concept or social construct. I am NOT those things, to anyone. I exist to simply be seen as what I am. Light, Energy, Love, Freedom, Boundless, free-flowing.

This path to be present with myself, what I am, in a world that rejects it on the societal structure and level is hard. It’s never going to be easy. It may take work, a lot of work to see it, and be with it, to stay with it, and not cover it up with roles and make-believe, but this is it

That’s what I am, and it is what I will always be.

It Takes Falling

It took me running from myself, to the point of exhaustion, to the point of sitting at the edge of a cliff just to get away from myself to make the pain stop to see. Up until now I blamed me for everything. It’s my bipolar, my anxiety, my depression, my introversion, it’s my ego, my personality, all these things that are to blame for why nobody loves me or wants me or sees me for what I am.

I am not the categories and labels people keep forcing me into and people aren’t the categories and labels I keep forcing them into. It’s not us. It’s never going to be us. Never.

I am not just bipolar. Sure. It is a layer, a chemical layer, but it’s not me. If you peel it away there is more beneath it, a constant that doesn’t change with my mind.

Mental illness may define my interactions in life sure.

But there’s something else deeper than all of that and that’s what I live for.

And it’s only when I’m alone, it’s only when I’m not pursuing people, only when I’m not running, only when I’m letting myself look that I can see what it is. Hidden beneath all the grime, hidden beneath the heart of the game, that I can really see what I am and what we really are. I really, genuinely am light, love and energy, I think we all are but I really can only speak for myself. I see me.

I know most people think it sounds stupid and ridiculous

But most of my struggle is learning how to be present and stay with myself long enough to give myself the courage to feel what I am underneath all the shit. The surface shit, the shadow, to just be me, underneath it all. How can I want to be loved, when I am love? It’s a process allowing myself to be love and feel love from a different place other than from the place I’ve been taught to look outside of me. The me that is deficient without societal approval. It’s hard but I’m working on being present with the one thing I use conditions and the world around to cover up: Me, and what’s beneath it. Not the illusions, but what’s real. Only then when I can see me, can I look at the world and see it’s true reflection without the pain, only then can I see through all the doors. To do that requires me to be present and learn to sit with myself. And it’s always going to be hard, being who you really are underneath it all, that Love, Light, Energy, learning to sit still long enough to stop fighting long enough to let it shine through, undoing all that we’ve learned is always going to be hard. No way around it but that’s the path I wanted to walk and so I’m walking it.

In Short

It’s Hard, being alive, living and being present with reality and who we truly are that’s hard. This is my path it’s the one I chose.

I was asked what does this all mean and so here is the summary:

  1. When there is no hope there is only what is. (I call it love, light, energy)
  2. I’m the one who chose to ask a million questions. I asked to see what was, and I got it. Now I have to deal with it and the path it’s set me on. (I asked, the universe granted whether I liked it or not, no take backs, how can I go back to the illusions and be content with that when I’ve not yet learned to embrace what really is, and when what really is, is 100x’s more beautiful?)
  3. My chosen path of love and seeing what is real, is hard, really fucking hard
  4. But it’s going to be hard, and that’s OK.

 

The path I’m on happens to be the path of seeing the world and myself for what it really is and loving it genuinely and unconditionally and being happy unconditionally in spite of what I see without adding thoughts of this is bad or not bad. It means that I have to do hard things like sit with the pain of being myself and listen to see through it all, and then I have to accept it, embrace it, myself and all that I am, discarding all that I am not. And that anything that takes me off the path that keeps me from doing the thing I asked to do in the first place has to be renounced, and all so I can love the way I want to love, beneath constructs, labels, categories, and all that isn’t, no matter how much it hurts to be here loving by myself. I asked for this, it’s painful, but it is what I got, and I can’t take it back now that I am on it.

This is what that path looks like, and it is not a walk in the park. That’s why society doesn’t run to do it in droves, it’s why we only tend to do it when we’ve had enough pain and falsehoods and are ready to embrace something beyond that.