Love is...

I talk about love a lot. It's the main thing people with BPD tend to do. It's the main thing we are focused on. We search day in and day out for someone, anyone to love us. My best friend says I have the emotions for 10 women. All the romantic, lovey dovey emotions. My problem is that I'm not sure what kind of love is real. I see older couples sitting next to each other in booths and looking at each other with all this love radiating from them and I think that is what I want. I don't know however if they have been married for 40 years or if they found each other after the loss of previous relationships and this love is new. I know at the beginning of relationships, it's always more exciting and then it slows down to a friendship with benefits sort of thing. I love the love you see in movies and television. The kind of love you would climb mountains to reach. But is it real? I keep asking myself and others this. Over and over again. It's the way I am broken. In my previous post, I talked about all the anger I have inside for the way I have been treated my entire life. I also have waves of compassion, joy, lack of patience, a fight or flight mode, a yearning to travel and a compulsive need to not be alone. I am a complicated mess. Sometimes all I can do is take one minute at a time because life has a way of being unbearable. It has a way of keeping you in the dark place. The dark place is somewhere I don't like living in but sometimes it is easier than dealing with all the thoughts and said emotions above. Sometimes it is a welcoming state.

I often wonder if love like what you see in movies is real than what is wrong with me? Why hasn't anyone loved me like that? What is in me that turns people off? I think I am a good woman. I don't cheat or lie in relationships. I value honesty, and respect and encourage the person I am with in pursuing their dreams and goals in life. I love taking care of them, and keeping their clothes washed and their house clean. I try to make all their favorite foods and to make them laugh as much as possible. I ask in return for communication, honesty, safety, kindness and of course romance. I like to think that this romance is simple, a slow dance in the kitchen to the radio, cuddling in bed before we roll over and fall asleep, an occasional coming home with store bought flowers. Maybe that is naive. And if it is, how do I live my life craving that and it not being real? How do I get those expectations out of my head? How do I accept the reality that no one is going to love me like that? No one is ever going to ask me to marry them in that romantic gesture that women love. I wish someone could tell me that. I wish someone could tell me that there is nothing wrong with me, it's just not a realistic representation of love. And then I wish I could just fade or drift away like a soft breeze through the trees. Because maybe love is really just a lie. Maybe it really is just a big illusion.

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