The trouble with love…

Unicorn

Is that it hurts. A lot.

Not in the way you might imagine, though, but love hurts. Not always in the conventional way that pain is supposed to. Sometimes it hurts egos, hurts possibility, hurts dreams, hurts plans, hurts hopes, and hurts desires.

I’m no expert, especially not lately, but I think I’ve experienced enough love over the years to understand the pain it can cause. Everyone always talks about the good and happy side of love, and I don’t doubt that that particular side exists, but there’s more to it than that.

When we were kids, we loved a lot of things. I loved my stuffed rabbit, Lil’ Furs. I loved my bike. I loved unicorns. I loved to drink Shirley Temples. I loved to read. I loved nature and being with animals. I loved horses. I loved to collect water boatmen bugs in a jar from the stream in our backyard. (I’m beginning to see why I might be alone right now…)

I say I loved all of those things because I truly believe I did. They brought me joy. They were things I looked forward to interacting with, experiencing, doing. They made me smile, laugh, feel good. I was happy in those moments with the things I loved most.

Preteen me was absolutely obsessed with unicorns. Stories about them, pictures, poetry, figurines, stuffed animals. I loved them with every fibre of my being. I had to be near them. I had to have them. I had to be learning about them, know everything about them.

And then it stopped.

I stopped loving unicorns so intently.

I’m not sure when it happened or how. I’m not even sure why. I do know that 31-year-old me doesn’t dislike unicorns, in fact I find them quite whimsical, and oddly calming, but I know I don’t love them.

If unicorns were a person, what would that mean for them? If for so many years it had been doted on, fawned after, showered with attention and held in the highest regard, then dumped. How could they recover from something like that?

That’s how love hurts. We change. As humans, we change. We grow. We evolve. It’s natural, it’s normal. We should evolve, we should grow. In fact, I love that about people, about myself. The possibilities are endless as to what we can become, who we can be. But what happens when we don’t do that together? What happens to the love then?

That’s when it hurts most.

Falling “out” of love is horrible. I know, it’s happened to me. And I don’t just mean the unicorns and collecting water boatmen on the stream. I’ve fallen out of love with a person, and him with me. I was no longer his obsession. I was no longer what made him happy. He no longer brought me joy. He no longer made me feel good.

It’s awful.

How could something so amazing go so sour? I’ve thought a lot about love and its intricacies as of late. I’m watching all kinds of couples around me struggle and suffer. I’m watching as they hurt one another over and over again. As they fall apart, despite admitting they’re in love. And it makes my own heart hurt. I don’t want them to feel that fall-out-of-love feeling I have. I don’t want either one of them to feel like a unicorn.

I hated feeling like a unicorn. No one should ever have to feel like a unicorn.

And so, I’m reluctant. I’m hesitant. The idea of love hurting again, the idea of going through all I already have or what other couples are going through right now… I’m not sure I could do it again. I’m not sure I could morph into that unicorn again. And I know I wouldn’t want to make anyone else into that mythical creature either.

Love can be a beautiful thing. I forget that. I forget what it’s like to be adored, what it’s like to be looked at and really seen. I forget what it’s like to be a unit, to be team. I forget what it’s like to have someone want me to be happy, to want to make me smile and laugh. And perhaps I forget because I never really had that, truthfully.

The trouble with love is that it hurts. A lot.

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~ by drivingmsmiranda on April 6, 2015.

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