The Thief Called Love

People are drawn to me, they call upon me, they often ask me for advice which I have no qualifications to give. 

I am very careful not to give advice, but to give factual accounts and reflections of my own behavior as it mirrors what they are exhibiting in their moment of need. Mostly to reassure that their conundrum is not some strange alien behavior, but a common thread between us all. "You are not alone, I feel this too sometimes, in fact, we ALL go through this in one way or another, it's OK, relax, you are perfectly normal". Typically when someone asks me for advice, they are merely seeking validation.

One thing we all struggle with is love. Love occurs naturally, yet we feel we can manipulate nature and people and manufacture or facilitate the cultivation of love.

We don't understand it, yet we desperately want it. When we have it we don't even recognize it, we certainly can't control it. It's like a spell has been cast upon us when love comes around. Under the spell we act erratically, irrationally, fanatically, neurotically. Some of us have deep emotional scars so we feel like we need to avoid it, disregard it, ignore it, or cast it aside. However we can't control it and when we try to we end up hurting the other party deeply.

I see all of this; I can articulate it, blog about it, recognize it in my own behavior patterns. I admit it, I work on it, I am the epitome of "seat of your pants" living. People surround me, and all of those who ask for my thoughts, my advice, my validation, my opinions... somehow they get stronger, their lives improve, they move on, their love comes true, they succeed, they get married, start families, and even stay together for decades or life. I continually struggle and at times, inevitably suffer, through the depraved, and even deranged, self destructive phenomenon that accompanies depression, loneliness and the lack of feeling loved. 

What makes me so unworthy? 

How can they have true love when I'm the one following the suggestions, doing all the work on myself, trying to be a better person? 

When will it be my turn to be blissfully ignorant, fat, dumb and happy in love?

When will someone hold me in his arms and tell me that everything is going to be OK, and mean it down to the root of his soul?

When will I believe it?

How will I trust it?

Love is a drug and like all drugs, it has taken from me.

Love flew in and scooped up my best friend and pulled her off into another direction now I barely hear from her.

Everything I feel, everyone I meet, I desperately wonder, "Is this love? Finally here to take me off to a happier world?" But no, it's not. It's just more pain, shame, toxicity, abuse.

Love comes to everyone who gets close to me, their relationships with their own families improve, and they get swept off their feet. While it rips a hole in my gut to feel and to show happiness for them, the absence of love burns like lava through that hole and leaves a deeper, darker scar on my soul. 

At what point is enough truly enough?