Leggo My Ego

They say you have three loves in your lifetime.

The first one is the puppy love/high-school sweetheart situation that makes us all vomit.

The second is the one that apparently hurts you the most.

And the third is your happy ending.

I love the words “happy ending.” NOT. I could write a whole separate piece about happy endings. You know what? I will. That is a threat AND a promise.

I don’t know who “they” are, but, as a hopeless romantic, I have always had hope in that.

So far, in my 28 years, I’ve had four. Lucky me. HA!

For seriousness and giggles, I have had four. One in particular still has my heart.

The first one was my high-school sweetheart. The one that set the bar way too high. The one that taught me what love and forgiveness are. Matt displayed the fruits of the Spirit in circumstances where he had every right to be bitter and I will forever try to resemble that.

Our connection was magic. And I’ve expected that from all of my relationships as well and it just doesn’t exist that often. I guess that’s what happens when you try to create a spell out of pure dirt. But what do I know?

I can defend a friend WAY faster than I can defend myself. I love being an empath, man. NOT. I love seeing the best in people. NOT. I love seeing their potential or who they used to be. NOT.

My first one destroyed me; it wasn’t his fault that God took him, but he still went.

My second one was filled with emotional abuse and was full of God’s protection, honestly.

My third one was the one I could not shake for, ironically, three years. This one set my heart on fire and also extinguished it too. This one taught me that I could love again and made me realize things about myself and that is something I’ll forever be thankful for. There were a lot of “firsts” with this one and we had some of the most dear and intimate moments just by laughing. This one is the one I have the most grief over because not only did I lose a chosen life partner, but I also lost a dear friend. That is a loss is one that is pretty heavy, honestly. I wanted them to be the one so bad, but they just weren’t, and never truly had been. Honestly, we should’ve never been together in the first place, but we loved each other too much. If I had to guess, and I’d like to say I know them pretty well, deep down, they too feel the loss.

Here a question for to chew on for next time:

Which is worse? Death or divorce?

My fourth one - that one the jury is still out on.

Usually, I can “shake” people pretty easily, but these four, it didn’t happen naturally with.

But this fourth one, I can’t shake just yet. It tears me up.

I haven’t felt heartache like this in a long time and I hate it.

I bet you’re wondering why I titled this “Leggo My Ego.”

Let me just tell you - me personally, I don’t have an ego problem. I will literally make myself look like a fool and give my last dime to both help the ones I care about and also to prove I care. It’s a process, really.

I will always find a way to make sure my voice is heard. If I wasn’t loud enough already.

Phew - let’s put our pride aside for a little while here. I want to define both pride and ego. Hey Google:

PRIDE: consciousness of one’s own dignity.

EGO: a person’s sense of self-esteem and self-importance.

Honestly, when you define them like that, they don’t seem so bad. But they literally are in the Bible so, indeed, they are “bad.” Or excess of them is bad. Just like donuts, or alcohol, or what have you.

We all have egos and we all have pride, first of all.

I want to tackle pride first before ego. It is totally okay to take pride in something. In your job, your gender, sexuality, culture, belongings you’ve worked hard for. But when it gets in the way of your Prince Charming or Cinderella moment, it then would be an issue. When it crosses over to conceited instead of conscious, it’s an issue.

Ever heard of false confidence? I feel like this should be in those definitions somewhere. If you’re confident in something, you’re usually honest about said thing right? Not just honest, but open right? You would think.

At what point does love take over? At what point does pride take over? Or ego? Everyone has an ego. Everyone has pride. Everyone has love. Do we use it? Not always. Love is ugly, man. It is. Sometimes, it just doesn’t work. Other times, the solution is simple, but the people are complicated.

Let’s talk about something I know connects to the two lovely words in the English language here…

TRAUMA!

So, say a girl has daddy issues, right? Her dad leaves after a long fight with the mom and doesn’t do right by said girl. Would it be surprising if the girl repeated that mistake? Should it be surprising if the girl repeated that same mistake?

Is this an excuse? Or a reason or explanation of behavior? It’s the latter.

It’s so funny to me how people are scared to say sorry. What do you think is going to happen? What are you afraid of? I always ask myself, when I’m afraid, that, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

Would it be so crazy to let in the idea of the fact that somebody loves you and wants to help you carry some of that, lack of a better word, baggage? Because I promise that there is someone that wants to even with the warts and all.

That’s what happened with Contestant #4 here, y’all. It got slightly hard, not even hard really, just slightly challenging and POOF! Gone. Not once, but twice.

Something that is crazy about me - first, let me copy and paste what I wrote above:

“I will literally make myself look like a fool and give my last dime to both help the ones I care about and also to prove I care. It’s a process, really.”

Even though I was done really so so wrong, I still said “I love you.” And I still fought for it. I still would’ve lost sleep over it and have lost sleep over it. I still had the fire under my ass about it and it still mattered. They still mattered.

But what was I left with?

Disappointment. Heartache. Blows to my own ego. Questions. Anger. Hurt. Pain. A broken heart that I didn’t know could be broken even worse the second time.

I fought for someone who didn’t want me. My hope came from the exhaust from my movements, from my efforts. I fought for someone who didn’t want me.

“If they wanted to, they would.”

A very true statement that my friend of the opposite sex told me as well as my best friend that hurts like a knife, old buddy ole pal. I even brought in the troops to analyze opinions and the messages. And they can’t even answer the phone. What is wrong with that picture? Everything.

Before I realized that that statement above applied to my situation, to the person I cared about, to the person I wanted to show up, I chased. And I chased. And I chased.

And it didn’t work. And didn’t work. And didn’t work again. I guess I should’ve sent a carrier pigeon.

I’m past the point where I hope it’s their name that pops up on my phone. I’m at the point now where my obligations are getting easier without that pain of chains around me. I’m past the point of calling their voicemail just to hear their voice. I’m past the urgency of wanting to talk to them. - This one right here. This one right here is the one that gets me the most.

Where is their urgency? I guess they are just continent.

What was the point?

I saw a quote on Facebook that talked about that sometimes we never know the reason why something happens or why someone does what they do.

But if I knew that a person I cared about was suffering, especially because of me, don’t you think I would want to fix it or at least try to help if I truly cared as much as I claimed to?

What was the whole point? Did they get what they wanted at my expense?

I do hope it was worth it.

All it did was tell me that another woman met the needs where I didn’t. And that I wasn’t good enough.

And it hurts.

There was cheese dangled in front of me on a piece of fishing wire just out of reach. I eventually tired out. I got tired of pushing a door that was labeled “pull” and not being chosen especially when my door had little to no resistance.

I keep saying, “I’ve been through worse.” But this f*cking sucks.

I just needed them to show up. I didn’t need a psychological puzzle piece with pieces left out with no key. Where in this equation does it scream that they care? I’ll wait.

We both see the same stars at night and it doesn’t sit right that we don’t discuss the stars.

Fear doesn’t keep you from love.

Ego doesn’t keep you from love.

Regret doesn’t keep you from love.

Being ashamed doesn’t keep you from love.

Not knowing what to say doesn’t keep you from love.

Being and doing wrong doesn’t keep you from love.

Doing wrong in the past doesn’t keep you from love.

Time doesn’t keep you from love. Whatcha waiting on? Christmas?

This quote below has given me hope in my darkest times:

“Hope is always greater than fear.” - The Hunger Games

Nothing is more frustrating than when you know something as simple as a conversation could fix all and they could have you. But they choose not to. And if they wanted to they would, but they don’t, and it hurts. But this too shall pass, grasshopper.

All they did was give you another reason not to trust people when all you wanted was for them to show up.

I showed up. And I was one who was done wrong. Make it make sense. I never once hesitated this time around. And if I ever did, I was honest. And I didn’t hide behind my phone screen or my own friends.

Didn’t I deserve common human decency? Didn’t I deserve to know the truth? Did I deserve to find out months later from my best friend after they told her and not me?

What was the point?

There’s a quote that I saw on good ole Fakebook. It said:

“A true coward is a man who pursues a woman but has no intention of loving her.”

What was the point of “I love you?” Or “I couldn’t get you out of my head,” when you were dating other people?

Why get a key made if it’s not going to fit your door? Why label the door “push” when it’s a “pull?”

Nothing cost you more than your word.

Was it worth it?

I would say I’d like to know, but I know they would never let me know,

A