When Love Was Easy

Love was so much simpler when we were kids. There wasn’t a long drawn out study of the prospects around us, convenience and location were key. Did they sit next to us on the bus or in class? Was their house next door to us or was their sister our best friend? Then there was the moment when we realized it was true love. It could have been when little Joey pushed you on the swing to make you go higher than everyone else or when Sally with the pigtails and skinned knee broke her cookie in half to give part to you because your Mommy forgot yours that morning and you looked sad. Maybe it was Mike at the desk in front of you who said the Pledge of Allegiance really loud who always grabbed the pencil off your desk on his way to the pencil sharpener. Or when Theresa chose you for Red Rover every time because she thought you were the biggest and fastest. In any case, you knew when that moment happened—the world stood still, the birds sang and the bell rang early. Not having learned the intricacies of mature love yet, you pulled out a clean sheet of paper and a very sharp crayon and poured your feelings onto the paper, expressing all your love and joy at finding your heart’s desire. “I love you, do you love me? Check yes or no.” If you received a yes, oh happy day! You could look at each other in class, avoid each other at lunch, and then chase each other around the playground willy-nilly with a quickly snatched kiss covered in cooties. If you got a no…dismay, perhaps a punch in the arm and that was it. You moved on, you healed quickly because you KNEW. You knew that this particular person did not return your affection, you didn’t have to guess and play games, you just knew.
And if by chance your beloved found someone else? It was over, no second chances, no trying to work through it. She/he had moved on and you did too, after informing said cheater of their resemblance to a pig’s butt.
Nowadays we are all locked into the whys, wherefores and how’s of love. Love is a chore, a job, something to be worked out. I understand that anything worth having is worth working for, but where’s the joy? Where are the spontaneity and the excitement and the breathtaking soar to the top of the swing set? I want to know where the quick, openhearted response is to my simple question. A yes or a no, love shouldn’t be multiple choice, there shouldn’t be maybe, yes buts or no buts, no try again laters, just yes or no. As for sweet natured, cherub faced blonde with her own baseball glove, how nice it would be to kick her in the shin, snatch her bald and expose her to the world as the man-snatching strumpet that she is. So much easier than keeping a good face on, being a big girl and not a crybaby.
Anyway, that’s just my little rant on the complications of love.
As for my first love? He turned the clasp around on my necklace and told me make a wish. Then he pulled my hair and ran off to play hide and seek. Now, that’s love.

Epiphany #1

I had an epiphany. I can hear my loved one's blood start to boil and chill simultaneously as they begin to read this. I think it must be really hard on those who love me or claim they love me to actually do so, because I'm not really lovable. Actually, I'm quite difficult to form an attachment to that's lasting and meaningful. In my defense, that has only been applying for the last couple of years AND it not a self-description, but the description of those much better and smarter than me.

But I digress...as usual. What was I talking about? Oh, yeah, my epiphany. I'm thinking that if my parents could raise me all over again, knowing what they know now, they would have done things different. All that squashing my natural outspokeness, my slight flares in temper, and need to call a spade a spade probably seemed like a good idea at the time. The careful pruning of my nature that turned me into the peace maker in the family, an Olympic-class mediator and general bull-shit swallower...eww, mental image. I guess that was needed in a big family where the father had a psycho temper, the mother was co-dependent and ambivalent and there were 4 children under the age of 6 plus numerous young cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents...all who had to be kept happy. It was like walking around in a shack full of dynamite with a lighted match in your hand...ah, childhood...good times. To this day a slammed door or stomping feet make me either want to explode or cower and try to make the angry person happy. Sucks to have a broken brain sometimes. So when I get the whys? from the family, you know, the 'why don't you, why couldn't you, why do yous'? , I just say "I am a product of my environment" and take absolutely no responsibility for my being a wimp assed bitch.

But I'm gradually finding myself. It's scary sometimes to see red and go ballistic...even if its just internal. I can be vocal at work or in public but not with the family still or those close to me. I blog. I scrapbook. I quilt. I get lost in books or music or movies. The same books...over and over; the same songs...over and over; the same movies...ditto. I start much, I finish little--broken brain. I deal with it. I go to the dark place, realign my chi and come back out, raring to go and loaded for bear.

One of these days, my conversations won't be preceded with the words "I was gonna tell her, but" or "It's a good thing I didn't" or "If they only knew" because I WILL tell and I WILL do and they WILL know. Oh, glorious day of awakening.... I can't wait until I grow some balls.

So basically, my epiphany is this... I wish I had had a different life....then maybe I wouldn't wish I were smarter, prettier, more confident, nicer, more patient, tolerant and forgiving. Instead I am a 45 year old grandmother with wrinkles, stubborn grey hair, dimples in my butt, impatient, unkind, hateful, bitter and tired.

I'm sure my mom doesn't sit around and gloat over the me that I am...I wonder do other people. I hope so because there's nothing worse than wasted effort and fruitless pursuits.

DISCLAIMER - no, no one has unkee-d with me, no one has hurt my little feelings, the voices aren't jacking with me, I'm not taking things out of context, no one has been mean, I'm not bent about something I've seen, heard or noticed when I was minding other peoples business instead of my own. I just need to vent a skoosh. Something happened today that made me disgusted with myself (really not important anymore- just one of those negligible 'I'm the only one who would have noticed it things' coz I overanalyze everything and I am SOOOOOOOOOO sensitive. (Note: if I were really THAT sensitive, wouldn't I be making life hell for the deserving every day?

One of these days things will be great...I know that. I couldn't have been that bad in a former life. At least I don't think I could have.