Sometimes you wake up and just feel a little unloved, unloveable. Nobody tells you they love you, but that doesn’t mean they don’t.
The first hour of your eyes being open and your brain running is really the moodsetter, the vibes o’ the day, if you will.
What are you thinking about? Who is in the room? Are they looking at you and are you lucky enough to wake up being loved? Has the cat kept your feet warm all night? Are your thoughts good? Are they bad? Why? What do you have to do today? What will you do first?
I was in a head-on car crash recently, and I was very lucky to not be harmed at all. A couple bruised knees and some brain fog, but overall, my face and body look the same and the bruises are gone. When I wake up now, it is usually to a thought about how I’m happy that I can keep waking up the same way I have always woken up. How the crash did not change my life. The synapses and neurons are still firing on all cylinders. I am lucky that I do not have more serious things to worry about or side effects that will never leave me.
Today I woke up thinking the same thing as yesterday, thinking I am very lucky to be looking at the person I am looking at and how I want to do this forever. I want to always look at this person in the morning and make him feel loved for the first moment of the day. I can’t help him in business, in his interactions with others, in what the world does to him, but I can love him every morning and hope that when he breathes in his first few awake breaths, they are full of the millions of tiny invisible hearts emanating from me. I can’t ask for them to be reciprocated or acknowledged, but I hope they are just felt somehow. We may not have much time in the day to offer each other soon as we get busier and grow and follow our dreams, but there will hopefully always be the morning moments. The grounding love, the constant love, the love that makes it so I can go confidently towards my goals with my head up and my mind focused.
Some days, like today, those tiny hearts are deflected, ignored. They evaporate. The vibe o’ the day is quietness, tinged with rejection. I think look at me! Look at me! Love me love me. If you would just say it I would just feel it. I physically try to pull it towards me and I am only met with resistance. I am quiet. We are quiet. I do my makeup silently and I think, I should go. I collect my little hearts off the floor and stuff them in my bag to bring home to my cat.
For mornings, I love podcasts and music and the sounds of faucets and the coffeemaker. I love getting tangled up and staying in bed to cuddle and laugh about what happened yesterday, and it is in hushed tones but it is the loudest thing in the world to me because it is all I can pay attention to at that moment. I would bang all the pots and pans in the house together to let the world know that in the face of the uncertainty I feel every day and not knowing where I stand in terms of anything, I am violently, ferally here and ready to fucking go. Whether it’s to just walk and get a coffee, to prepare for a big moment, or to do work or homework. I appreciate a strong or lovely first hour of my morning.
Today there was a trail of unloveableness that simply followed me wherever I went. I did homework for 8 hours and I learned and I took notes, I ate brownie brittle and I watched Grimm and I listened to requiems on Spotify. I held my cat hostage in my arms against his will and I could not shake the sticky and boggy feeling that nobody will ever know the depth of my love and I will never feel the reciprocation of it. I will work hard and I will become who I want to be but I may never hear someone say I love you. And I will be quiet and wonder which parts of me need to be traded, upgraded, or revised in order to be lovable.
I know I will go to sleep and tomorrow will be better, and in three sleeps I will forget this sticky unlovable feeling entirely.
But I can be this unlovable thing, and I can still be everything I want to be. I may not have it all, but I can do everything I want. And in spite of not being loved today, I loved. Maybe my place is not to be dipped upside down and kissed all over the face and be whispered lovely things to, but maybe it is to make someone else feel that way. Maybe I am not the wellspring, but the faucet that has to abide by the rules of gravity and give and give and give.
And even more groundbreaking and world-shattering and thought-provoking is – What if I am receiving love, but it is silent? I will never hear it but it will wrap itself around me like the softest, warmest blanket. It is a constant, always there, supporting me and protecting me. It is not little hearts emanating from him but a bubble that is so expansive around us that I cannot see the boundaries and I cannot hear the buzz of its energy.
I prefer to think that this is the case, as unlovable as I am today.
Prattle Peach 