I have recently learned something about myself: I am careless with my heart. If you know me, you might disagree with this. I have friends who say that relationship-wise they think I will eventually be the happiest of all of us because I'll take my time, I'll be careful and I won't just throw myself into the first arms that are open to me. I have even been known to think this about myself. I am incredibly cautious. I think everything through. I know I am a deeply emotional person, so I tend to hold back and edit myself for a long time before I completely trust someone. The thing I've realized though is although I might never tell anyone (including myself) how invested I am in a relationship, the truth is I throw myself in all too fast. Guys, girls, potential lovers, new friends, it doesn't matter who it is. I fall hard and fast. And then it happens. I've entrusted my heart to this person and suddenly they look at me and say "What the hell are you doing? I never asked you for this." And then they drop it and leave it bruised and bleeding, covered in dust and the crud from the bottom of people's shoes. So I pick it up and clean it off and stitch the wounds closed. And for a time I am careful, oh so incredibly careful. Eventually though the stitches come out, and even though the wounds are still scabby and tender, I think to myself, "Hey, I'm all better now." And I promptly turn around and hand my heart to the next person. And the cycle starts all over again. I've been left with an incredibly beat up heart. And yet I find myself actively searching for someone I can give it to. Maybe I'm an idiot. Maybe I'm a masochist. But maybe, just maybe, I'm hoping that the next person I give it to will look at it, see the scars, take it and wrap it in beautifully soft cloth and keep it somewhere safe. Maybe they will be able to take better care of it than me.
So, here's the story of this blog. It is a bit more personal than I tend to get on here. I always try and be honest with you guys, but sometimes I hesitate to put anything too detailed on here. I wrote this at two in the morning, so it's definitely a bit...earnest. Everything always seems so intense in the middle of the night. Last week I typed this all up, selected a picture, went to post it...and stopped myself. Just so everyone knows: I am perfectly fine. I have some seriously wonderful friends and a family who loves me a lot. I am blessed with many relationships in my life where I am cared for in an incredible manner. However, I find that when one person hurts you it is easy to forget about all of those good relationships. It takes a lot of peope to compensate for that one abuse. I am constantly amazed that despite having been hurt I still search and hope for love in all its forms. I think that's a good thing though. I think it makes me human.
I took this picture over Thanksgiving weekend in my mom's garden. A bunch of rose buds had come out on one of her bushes just before frost started showing up and kind of petrified in this state. I thought they were gorgeous in all of their decaying glory.
