I don’t write about love.
Lost love. Love lost, or anything of that sort.
I write about career stuff. I write about fears, hopes, dreams, and job dissatisfaction. I write about redefining narrow views of success and happiness. I write about challenging the status quo. I deal more with the relationships we have with ourselves, versus the relationships we have with other people.
It’s just never been my thing.
Whenever I get ready to pen a new post, I hear the words of author Terry McMillan in my head: “Write hard and from the heart.”
But over the last few weeks, I haven’t wanted to write from my heart because my heart is injured right now. It’s hurt and it misses someone. My heart has wanted to listen to sad songs, and cry. It hasn’t felt like masking that pain in order to write about job dissatisfaction, or career angst.
My heart wants to write about love and loss. So, bare with me.
Most Gen Y articles you see on love follow the same format: love vs. love of career. We’re young. We’re in our twenties. We’re not supposed to be worried about significant others. We are supposed to be focused on career advancement. Articles that say other wise are only found in the “Oh my god I’m “enter some number in 30’s here” and everyone I know is getting hitched!” or the “ We’re young, have plenty of sex!” variety.
We don’t talk about what happens in the between times when you meet someone that you connect with. Someone who makes your heart flutter. Someone who makes you wonder what life with them could be like. Someone who inspires you and makes you feel something you’ve never felt before.
And we definitely don’t talk about what it feels like when that something ends. What happens when it comes to a halt?
We freak out. Or, at least I did. It took me a week to stop being angry at myself for not being able to speed this up.
Our culture is one of quickness and efficiency. Gen Y, especially, embodies that. We are used to having everything NOW. We are used to instantaneous results. We don’t like to be reminded that no matter how smart our phone is, or how quick we can download anything we desire, that there is no app for getting over hurt and disappointment. Unlike your DVR, or your microwave, you can’t fast forward through your pain, or instantly get over the situation.
We tell ourselves to dive into our work, and whatever else to distract us.
We are reluctant to admit when things go astray. We guilt trip ourselves out of just taking a moment to sit and be sad. We think that somehow sadness makes us weak and stupid.
But it’s part of the experience. Sometimes things don’t work out, and that’s OK. Wherever I am at the moment, it’s real. I’m somewhere between sadness and acceptance. I finally understood that I had to give in to being sad. At least for a little while.
We talk a lot about how the things that happen in our lives test us. Lay-offs, bad jobs, confusion over what to do next, ect.
But sometimes, the people we meet can test us too. We get tested on our faith in humanity; our ability to keep standing when someone knocks us down; and our ability to love again, even when you don’t think you can or know if you should.
Sadness is just a temporary feeling that reminds you of just how strong, and completely out of control, you really are.
And there is no need to speed it up.