I know so many people who are heartbroken right now. What’s the deal?! It’s my friends texting me about the ache. It’s the emails from readers I’ve never met. It’s the echo from a post I wrote about love on Instagram.
Love makes us both strong and weak. At the same time it’s the clearest message and the most confusing. It is a test and a question. It is a declaration, a message so loud it drowns everything else out. Love makes us cry. It makes us laugh like we are insane, sing when we are tone deaf, stay when we should leave. Love knocks us onto the floor when we’re already drunk. We fall asleep in it. We wake up and drink the water it left next to our heads. Love isn’t rational but it’s not supposed to be, and often it’s the only thing we know to be true. What a gift.
We are all hungry for feeling. For meaning.
Love is so damn complicated. Trust that I’m screaming this from my soul to my fingertips.
It’s messy. It’s clear and muddy at the same time. It’s the biggest paradox we’ll ever know. And it’s almost a guarantee that at some point in our lives, we’ll have a crazy run-in with love. A head-on collision. We’ll feel like we’ve had 4 strong margaritas and ran around in circles for an hour blindfolded.
Love is like that.
I am addicted to love, and to loving the moments that didn’t even feel good– because we don’t get to choose the ones that stick. I first realized this in a scene I’ve mentioned before– I was 21 and had moved to Porto, Portugal without knowing anyone. I would lay lonely on the roof of my apartment and stare at the sky, knowing that I would eventually miss that moment.
That feeling comes and goes in waves that take me over.
It was the feeling I had dancing to bad pop music with a tall freckled Australian guy in Budapest. It was a comical scene, but I knew I’d miss it as soon as it was over. Because you can love a moment, even a moment like that one. Especially a moment like that one. And maybe it doesn’t entirely make sense which ones our hearts choose, but those are the moments we remember.
It feels like we don’t choose the people we love either. But magic doesn’t happen on accident.
It’s loud, right? So loud sometimes it’s all we can hear. It brings us to our highest highs and our lowest lows, and it doesn’t really care what it does to us. It’ll teach us about the depths of our hearts if we allow it to. If instead of turning up the volume even more, we just got quiet, and listened.
You will read this and connect it to whatever your experience is with love, and whatever it means right now. It can be the way we love wild places, the way we love the way our coffee smells, the wonder of this whole life in general. It can be absolute heartbreak, heartache. It can just be heart, and that’s enough. It shifts and changes and it always will.
We know this: when it shows up, it refuses to be ignored. Love is like that.