Love is a funny game; both heartbreaking and deeply compelling, yet undeniably addictive. It’s an emotional drug that I keep chasing, the most profound high I ever felt. Better than alcoholism, anyway.
But the side effects? Excruciating. Like binging alcohol, the aftermath is brutal.
Some people aren’t allowed to join us on our journey. It’s a lesson that’s difficult to learn. Worse is the nauseating realization when you’re forced to let go.
These are the sacrifices made, which requires undeniable faith, in following Gods path. Giving Him permission to reside in you, next to you, through the nauseating feelings and into the unknown; that’s what true audacious faith is.
You cling to the hope that when God grants you your person, the pain will have been worth it. You hope the wait is worth it. You hope that you made the right choice in letting go of those you didn’t want to lose. And you pray, asking God to bring them back into your life one day. But you must also find peace in the possibility of that not happening.
Love people endlessly, even through the excruciating pain their absence leaves behind. This pain is proof that you were loved by someone, and that’s a beautifully written pain.
It’s possible the pain will never leave, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe this pain is the only reminder of a scent left behind, faint yet familiar, that you catch every now and then. Maybe it’s the only memory you have left from them, no pictures, no clothing, no scents, and no bed indention’s. Just pain.
Yes, the pain is excruciating. But the love… love is addicting.
Remind yourself that you made someone feel loved in a way they’ve possibly never felt before, perhaps never will again. And remind yourself that you were once loved, too.
Miss those who are gone. Love those who are absent. Grieve the devastating loss regardless of how long the healing takes.
Climb that mountain of pain, but don’t climb it alone. Invite others to hike with you. It might only take a few days. Maybe a few weeks. For me, it can take months, even years, depending on the depth of that person’s impact and the strength of the scent they left behind.
It could take years, and that’s okay. Let it take years, love.
Love the loss of someone who impacted you deeply. Love them even when they’ve moved onto someone else. Love them when you find someone new. Love them anyway and always because you were once loved, too.
Love them because everyone deserves to feel loved, and feeling loved is the greatest high known to man.
For me, God is that high; a high so profound that I keep chasing even through the excruciating, and nauseating pain. And the love of God never fails. I also long to be chosen by someone. And when I’m not chosen? That’s not love. Love is a choice and sacrificial. But I continue to love anyway, and always.
“Some days we might fall apart. And some days might feel cold and dark.” One thing I’m sure of is this; God puts the pieces back together. He is a blanket of warmth, and His light shines in darkness.
With lots of love,
Christina.
