If you don't find yourself crying into your Christmas tree patterned turtleneck after a joyous holiday celebration, are you even doing dating right?
I know, I know, it seems a little melodramatic. I'm over here picturing myself in a very Bridget Jones-ish scenario where I'm blubbering into my tacky Christmas sweater holding a glass of wine – which isn’t too far off.
Let me catch you up. Tonight, I summed up the courage to tell the handsome gentleman I've been crushing on how I feel. And this was no small feat. In fact, I would call it a revolutionary act. Why? Because I knew he was going to respond saying that he didn't feel the same way. I knew that I was going to lay my heart on the line for him to politely decline it. And yet, I did it anyway.
Why?
I needed to prove to myself that I could. I needed to let myself be vulnerable enough to FEEL something for someone. I needed to allow my heart the room to expand and then give it space to be broken. When I was younger, I did this all the time. If my heart was a substance, it would have been that putty you played with as a kid – taking on the shape or print of whatever it was nearest to, but able to be re-formed and re-shaped again. After quite a lot of rejection in college, I slowly started to let the elasticity of my heart become a little less flexible, and it left me in a place where I couldn't feel much of anything related to love anymore. Sure, I went on dates and flirted with men, but it felt more like a calculated game of who held the power than an open-hearted search for love.
But this, true rejection, it hurts. I can feel my heart sputtering back to life, even as it rediscovers the rejection it once knew so well. And while I mourn for the relationship that I desired – the Hallmark Christmas movie happy ending – I’m grateful for this chance to experience the rollercoaster of emotion again.
The difference is, this time, I know how to move forward. I know that I need to do more than turn off the switch that feels. I know I need to face up to the voices in my head that are whispering fiercely, “see, no one will ever love you, you’re just not (fill in the blank) enough.” This time, I know, deep in my heart, that I AM enough, whether someone chooses to love all that I am or not. I won’t sit here and tell you that it’s not devastating. It is. But now I have the freedom to let my heart chase another love, to risk it all, to set aside my fears of embarrassment for a shot at love.
So tonight, I’m going to cry. And for the next couple days, I might be a little tender. But this heart will bounce back, and it will be ready to try again.
