I thought it would get easier. And in many ways it has. But that underlying, nagging feeling that I don’t have what it takes. That I will never be enough. Rejection is surely just around the corner. Those feelings and fears I’ve had from the beginning are still are there.

It wearies me. After so many years. So much internal work. So many therapy sessions. Endless conversations. Countless tissue boxes and tears.

Yes, I see growth. Beauty. A depth that wasn’t there before. Wisdom emerging from the ashes. So much that is good.

But do our oldest and deepest wounds ever go away? Are they the ghosts of past, present, and future? Perhaps not visible, yet hauntingly and deeply felt.

I want to feel as if I’m the love of his life. The missing puzzle piece. But I feel like I’m only half of that missing piece. A love but maybe not the love.

That’s not what I want. Not what I signed up for.

It’s like fate has dealt us the best and worst of hands all in one. To walk away from the pain would also be to walk away from the deepest happiness I’ve ever had. How does one even begin to process that, much less live through it?

To quote Daniel Levy’s character, David Rose, in the show Schitt’s Creek,

“I’ve been burned so many times, I’m basically the human equivalent of the inside of a roasted marshmallow.”

David Rose

Deep inside I carry a weight that, whether I’m consciously aware of it or not, tells me I’m not enough. That I don’t have what it takes. One too many rejections leaves one feeling like the next one is just around the corner.

I mindfully breathe in the golden color of this fall day. The birds singing welcome to sunshine dripping on green and gold leaves. It strikes me that the earth is letting go of one season while fully waking up to a new day. Embracing and releasing at the same time.

I always thought it was either-or. Death or life. Acceptance or rejection. Sorrow or joy. But what if we are able to be enough and not be enough at the same time? What if I’m not his everything but still be the love of his life?

Maybe life is best lived when we figure out how to hold our grief and our happiness in the same hand. Not either-or, but both. Not enough, yet still enough, at the same time.

Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.