I’ve never had much luck with relationships. I’ve always chased after people who weren’t right for me. I picked those who chose me for shallow reasons. I didn’t understand real, honest love. To me, love and pain were inseparable because, for me, it always has.
I can’t clearly remember my first heartbreak, but maybe it was when I lost my pet guinea pig, Kirby. I used to play with him outside his cage, building little cities for him to wander through. He was my companion, my friend. When I came home from school and found him sick, he was dead. He died because I didn’t feed him the right food. I cried for three days, or maybe it was three hours straight. I don’t remember, my brain is foggy. Anyway, my grandma thought something was wrong with me like my grief was abnormal.
But it wasn’t just grief. It was love.
God created me to love deeply. It’s both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I love filling others with kindness and positivity. A curse because it often leads me to people who don’t treat me well. When I go through a heartbreak, it takes months to stop crying, sometimes even longer to heal. I know, it’s a lot. I’m very sensitive… But this is how God created me to be; vulnerable, compassionate, and willing to give myself away, to anyone honestly.
After Kirby, I think my parents became my next heartbreak. It’s too much to unpack all at once (a story for another time) but those early wounds shaped the woman I became; the one who kept choosing men who couldn’t love me properly. Men who were broken, lost, and unable to accept the love I gave them. I’ve had my shattered more times than I can count. Each time, I felt unworthy of love, as though their inability to love me was a reflection of my worth. A lie that I continually believed throughout my life.
My aunt said to me the other day “Christina, I think you’re starting to see that people don’t value love the same way you do.” Or something similar like that. Anyway, that sounds pretty good to me, regardless it’s very true. Many people don’t value relationships the way I do. It’s heartbreaking to witness. I freely love people, the broken and damaged ones, the same way God loves us; broken and damaged, no matter what.
Recently, a friend of mine shared something beautiful with me: that he saw Jesus laying a rose at my feet. At first, I didn’t understand the meaning, but I do now. Each rose represents every heartbreak I’ve endured. Every betrayal and moment of pain and abuse. Every doubt and question I’ve asked God. Every tear, and every scream.
If there is a rose for each of those moments, I’d have fields upon fields of roses. Yet, those roses are more than reminders of pain. They’re symbols of unconditional love. They’re reminders of my worth and the love I deserve. They show me that love doesn’t have to hurt, and that love can be pure and healing. That love can exist without pain.
Each rose embodies that truth- a rose of love, brought to me by Jesus.
With lots of love,
Christina
