Personal

Life Update

Posted on by 5 feet and 4 inches of Spring Cleaning

Marriage & Moving

A Serbian Pigeon, taken on my honeymoon to Serbia

Doubtless the most significant change in my life has been my marriage to a good man and my best friend. We are 7 months married now and it’s an adventure, to say the least. Even after only 7 months, marriage isn’t all sunshine. I never knew that you could spend 30 minutes arguing with someone on something you agree on, but that is apparently a big part of marriage. It’s also so comforting to have that one person you can always turn to, that you don’t have to hide anything from. I am a naturally withdrawn and reserved person, so I still struggle to go to him with my feelings and pains, but whenever I do it is beyond relieving and feels so much better than carrying my burdens alone.

The other big thing was moving across the country. I won’t give too many details for privacy’s sake, but we only moved a few weeks ago and it’s a huge change. I have been under a lot of both physical and psychological stress and my health has suffered for it, but not too greatly. Things are slowly taking on a rhythm and I am making new friends.

Education & Career

I am taking a year out of school because last semester was 18 hours and it left me beyond drained. It was cumulative exhaustion stemming all the way from high school. I’ve been playing academic for a little too long and I just need to breathe for a bit. Besides, I don’t want to pay out-of-state tuition since I’ve moved, so for now I’ll continue to do independent studies related to my field. I also am looking for work that will be good experience and a resume booster. I am aiming to do some freelance babysitting and tutoring, and I might apply to a daycare later on.

College is just so expensive and I am so staunchly adverse to taking out more than perhaps a few thousand in loans. Not to mention, my husband can’t work right now because of his school, so income is going to be slim. God help! I have begun contacting local schools to inquire about financial aid and their education programs, so we shall see.

Interests, Intentions, & Hobbies

I’ve been thinking about wellness a lot lately. I want to work out more, eat more whole foods, get more sleep, spend more time outdoors, and do more things that “feed my soul”, as my literature teacher put it. I don’t want any potential I have to be well-rounded, kind, and healthy to be wasted. I want to spend less time on the internet, less time worrying about what I can’t control, less time daydreaming (oh yeah, so apparently I’m a maladaptive daydreamer??), less time procrastinating and holding on to my comfort zone. Benjamin Franklin said (he probably didn’t) some men die at 25 and aren’t buried til 75; well, let that not be me. I want to seize the day just a little more, by saying the kind words I often think about people, even strangers, but am too shy to speak out. I want to focus more on prayer and awareness of God, and the remembrance of death, because tomorrow isn’t promised. Life is so short, and I don’t want to waste another day.

In terms of projects and hobbies that are occupying my time recently, well, there’s a lot. I am writing my own DnD campaign based in the Forgotten Realms setting with some added personal flavor. Anyone who has ever attempted running a tabletop rpg knows exactly what I’m going through. I also have been thinking about my lil space trilogy that I began writing for my husband. It’s a self-serving and indulgent little project, and a lot of fun to write. It’s high time I picked it up again.

My husband and I are moved into quite a fixer upper. As in, we don’t have a kitchen at the moment, and it seems like no one’s painted since the 70’s when a two-toned purple bathroom with light mauve trim was cool. Fortunately, scrubbing soot from walls and painting trim pleases me, and so a lot of my time in the coming months will be devoted to making this house a home. I just bought a sewing machine so curtains and new throw pillows will be forthcoming (Would y’all be interested in seeing those?).

I also want to get serious about liturgical music. I want to learn the 8 tones by heart and improve my general music theory. Oh yeah, and pick up my guitar more often. I also want to improve my Spanish.

ALSO, I’ve been thinking about ethical shopping and avoiding sweatshop produced goods. Biodegradable materials and all-natural ingredients are becoming priorities for me. Got recs? I discovered boodywear.com for ethically produced underwear and other clothing and of course thrift stores are ever-present and fantastic. I’m planning on buying produce, milk, eggs, and meat from local farmers/Amish as much as I can and I have as of a month or two ago, ditching paper towels for good.

I am busy, and I am content. If you have suggestions for future blog posts let me know below.

Until next time,

A wannabe renaissance woman

Role Models for our Daughters

Posted on by 5 feet and 4 inches of Spring Cleaning

Do you all remember when this tweet was making the rounds, perhaps a couple years ago?  This awakens a huge pet peeve of mine–the downplaying of virtues traditionally considered “feminine” and the idea that in order for a woman to be considered “strong” she must espouse traditionally masculine virtues, such as physical strength, leadership, fighting skills, and stoicism.

I do not mean to suggest that women can’t be these things, because of course they can.  But the tweet seems to imply that the princesses of the author’s generation were not worth looking up to. That these generals are what strong women look like, and are what our daughters should strive to be.  But strength comes in many forms, and I’m tired of this narrow-minded, feminist idea of a “strong woman”, and that a woman who is soft, compassionate, obedient, gentle-spoken, and in a word, feminine, is somehow oppressed or a victim of the patriarchy.

All the Disney princesses I can think of, with the exception of Snow White (because that bimbo took an apple from an obviously evil old woman, so it’s more a cautionary tale I think) are excellent role models for young girls.

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Cinderella- Cinderella is a good place to start, mostly because she is so well known and I’m fairly certain was my first Disney princess.  My younger sister watched Cinderella on repeat when she was about 3 or 4; something about it simply captivated her.  And Cinderella is a strong female lead.  She is unerringly kind to those around her, especially her animal friends. Even though she has every reason to be bitter and hate her stepmother/stepsisters, we don’t see her really hating them.  True, she gets annoyed by their incessant demands, but who wouldn’t?  In fact, she has greater patience than most people.  Cinderella keeps her head up and keeps dreaming for a better future, even when there seems no escape from her life of drudgery. The only time she was truly desperate was when her hopes of attending the ball were dashed by her stepsisters’ cruelty.  She wasn’t even going to get a man.  Our homegirl literally just wanted one well-deserved night of fun.  But she got a prince as well!  We know the rest of the story, and it should be plain that Cinderella deserved the ending she got.  Poetic justice!  That a kind and gentle spirit is rewarded–a strong spirit–is the basic moral of Cinderella.  Can you argue with that?

And more recently, the live-action Mulan remake disappointed everyone. Because it was no longer about a normal young woman trying to fit in. She was suddenly this absolute badass with no weaknesses…and totally unrelatable. Here’s a link to a well-executed video explaining the Mulan problem a lot more efficiently than I would: https://youtu.be/NXBqG9E9uSA

The point is, femininity is a strength. Feminists promote the idea that an empowered woman must have all the worst traits of a man: aggressiveness, violence, sexual promiscuity, stifled emotions, etc. And if you as a woman put value into things like your home life, if you like cooking for your husband, if you take a long break from your career path to raise children, if you are quiet and gentle when voicing your opinion at work, you are somehow less than, that you’re somehow letting down women by not putting yourself in a STEM field workplace. This is now becoming ingrained in our culture, and it’s dangerous.

Women have often been seen as the moral guardians of society. We temper men’s promiscuous sexual nature and make monogamy a good choice for them. Our softer and more emotional hearts are often quicker than men’s to recognize the awful state of the world, and when we see someone, anyone suffering, we will do anything to help. We are absolutely essential in the rearing of children, primarily as mothers, but also as teachers and counselors. Many people remember their mothers as one of their primary inspirations, more so than their fathers. Both men and women say they prefer interacting with a woman when handling business such as banking or ordering food. We’re more agreeable and less intimidating. We’re better communicators, better diplomats, and more in tune with other’s emotions. This is women at their best.

Of course, this is speaking very generally, as have been my statements about men. There are always exceptions, but these things are largely true and important. Women can wield swords or lead armies (and trust me that’s awesome) but they cannot be men. And men cannot be women.

I have a lot to say about both men and women and their roles in modern society. And I have a lot to say about the institution of feminism and how we got here. Probably I’ll touch on these things in the future, but I hope I got my point across today. Take care of yourselves!

Thank you for reading and for following my blog. I was kinda thrown off by 2020 and I’m very busy these days, but I have several things in the works (I promise!). Stay tuned!

Personal

Quick Update

Aside | Posted on by 5 feet and 4 inches of Spring Cleaning

Hey all! I know I kinda went AWOL after March, but you all know how the year’s been going.  I toyed with the idea about writing my thoughts about the relevant topics and current events, but there wasn’t anything I wanted to add to or delve into.  Blogging can be draining sometimes, especially if your chosen topic is racial justice or something equally heavy.  I have a couple things in the works and I hope to publish one before school starts on August 17th.

I’ve also been considering the future of this blog and what changes I might need to make.  I’ve been here for 5 years, which is kind of hard to believe.  I’m very grateful for every one of my followers and I hope that you’ll continue to stay with me going forward.  You know that my blog has no solid “brand” or theme, and I like it that way.  This is just where I put my musings and hope that someday I’ll say something that motivates, informs, inspires, or entertains just one person.

 

See ya soon,

Anneliese

Spring is the Best Season: Change My Mind

Posted on by 5 feet and 4 inches of Spring Cleaning

I cannot believe I ever endorsed Summer as the objectively best season.  Nor Autumn, for that matter.  The balance of cool and warm, the renewal of green life, and the return of migratory birds, the prayerfulness of Great Lent and the coming of Pascha (or Easter) all serve to make Spring the most fulfilling, enervating, and hopeful season of the year.

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Yesterday I walked outside and was in awe of the glorious puffy cumulus clouds providing us with partial cover from the friendly yet brilliant sunlight.  I simply love it when you can see sunbeams parting the clouds.  Moreover there was a strong, cool breeze which blew my hair back and caressed my face gently and congenially.   Something about Spring winds, even the harsher ones that portend thunderstorms,  penetrate beyond your clothes and face.  I could feel it in my heart, as though it were blowing away cobwebs of doubt, sorrow, and trepidation.

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The sacredness of the Lenten season perhaps has made me more receptive to these heartening messages from nature.  I am so bad at praying, and yet I am blessed to see, smell, hear, and feel the beauty around me. No earthly artist has ever come close to creating such work.

Daffodils are nearly always the first to bloom.  They are my absolute favorite flower because they seem so brave, emerging in the icy coldness of late winter to herald the coming of warmer days.  Uncountable other blossoms begin to appear soon afterward.  Who can help but to gaze in admiration at a tree full of luscious pink cherry blossoms, the smattering of white bloodroot in the corner of one’s yard, or the vibrant bunch of crocuses at a park? Not I. Nor can the friendly honeybees who eagerly dive among them.

close up photo of purple crocus flowers

Photo by Dan Hamill on Pexels.com

In the early mornings the birds begin their cacophony, which although is composed of a dozen different songs, somehow is only pleasant.  Put simply, it makes me happy.  The birds sound happy, even when defending their branch or looking for a mate; I have not taken a poll, but I suspect that everyone would be a little happier if they started their day by listening to their feathered neighbors and not doing anything else.

Also, the squirrels are busy digging for the nuts they hid a few months ago.  There are many many squirrels on my campus and it’s always a delight to see their glossy eyes and bushy tails scampering across the sidewalk and up a tree.  They’re used to college students staring at them, I think.  Stupidly cute.

wood nature forest eating

Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

You’ll often hear these days that the times are only getting worse.  The sins of humanity can only continue growing before they destroy our world and everything we hold dear.  We hear on the news that the world is full of death, starvation, war, animosity, racism, illness, and hatred.  They say the world has gone mad.  And perhaps that is true.

But despite all the horrible things that have happened and are happening, Spring dutifully emerges every year.  A single daffodil blooming could be enough to encourage a sad and desperate man, and every year we see hundeds, nay thousands of jubilant blossoms decorating the landscape.  Year after year, the faithful Christians sing and rejoice in the Resurrection of Christ and the boundless Love of their God.  Every year that bracing wind sweeps across the land, ready to fortify any person who acknowledges it.  Every year, morning birds sing their exuberant tunes as tendrils of warm sunshine stretch over the dewy green grass.  As long as even one of these statements remains true, be it even one flower, one Christian, one puff of wind, or one bird song, there will be Hope, and we shall not be completely lost.

 

A.P.S

Junk from My Brain, Personal

When I say I Love You

Aside | Posted on by 5 feet and 4 inches of Spring Cleaning

To a friend:  I trust you and I am so so grateful to have you in my life.  You make my world brighter.

To a best friend: I would absolutely die without you. You are a support and a comfort and I think you’re an amazing person.

To a lover: I would go through any sort of trial and tribulation just to be with you.  I want to be by your side when the world crashes to pieces.  Being with you is like being home. I adore you.

To a pet: You are the CUTEST.  I will forgive you all your mistakes and buy you the best food I can afford. So damn cute.

To a sibling: You’re a freaking nerd and drive me crazy, but I know you’re one of the real ones.  Together we’re unstoppable.

To a parent:  You aren’t perfect, but I’m grateful that you provided for me and for the lessons you taught me.  You’re pretty cool. 🙂

To God: I cannot begin to comprehend You or what Your plans for me are.  But I want to trust You, and I want to become a better person to be more like You.  Help me, Lord. Let Your Will be done.

Hopeful Romantic

Posted on by 5 feet and 4 inches of Spring Cleaning

     As a person, I have always been a bit of a dreamer.  When I was young, if I wasn’t curled up somewhere with a book, I was day-dreaming.  I dreamt of more interesting times and places, of fighting dragons atop fiery mountains, of wielding a lightsaber and surviving Order 66, of being a silk-clothed princess benevolently welcoming my guests to a ball, of being an adventurer with a really cool cloak and comrades who would die for me and I for them.  My favorite book for years was Anne of Green Gables.  I read it over and over, so much did I relate to its heroine.  I, like Anne Shirley, grew frustrated with the mundane activities of daily life, instead craving romance and adventure.  Perhaps it was partially escapism, the turbulence of my parents’ marriage and my home life driving me to seek fascinating, more beautiful places, where I could be whatever I wanted, and the endings were nearly always happy.  But I think it was more greatly due to my personality.

     I’ve always thought that the life of a pirate captain (the good, friendly kind, like in Pirates of the Caribbean, not the bad kind that rapes and pillages) would be a lovely way to live.  Sailing on the open sea, with the wind in your hair, leading a trustworthy crew singing sea shanties and drinking rum.  It would be especially great to sail into unknown waters, discovering countries uncharted and untouched, having countless adventures.   I am also egotistical enough to enjoy the thought of being called “captain”.

That is the dream, with one exception: the only thing I have ever imagined being better than being the captain of a ship would be meeting a man thrice as qualified to lead a crew as I am.  A wise companion who, with me as his first mate, would guide the course of our ship, of our lives, with sobriety, confidence, and goodness.  And we would work together and sail through many stormy seas and through nights so dark you begin to wonder if dawn will ever come.  Ultimately, through great effort, great faith, and great love, we would make it through and be able to look back on the friends and decisions we made, on our children and our children’s children, and to be satisfied, indeed, overjoyed at the life we had built.  Then, as we faced forward to the Sun of Righteousness Which Never Sets, our ship would learn to fly, and we would sail away through the stars, together forever.

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photo cred: James Wheeler

Perhaps I am naïve.  No, I know that I am.  I long for wisdom, but I am too young, too inexperienced to understand.  Certainly, I do not want my described vision to be conflated with a belief in “soulmates” or with a notion that two people must remain in love for a marriage to be successful. Nonetheless, I believe in true love and in devotion for life to one person.

I am not one of those hapless individuals pining for a mate because they need affirmation or cannot handle being alone.  I have never yet been in a relationship, and I am content with waiting still.  Or perhaps I shall find I have nothing to wait for at all, and, betaking myself to some remote monastery, I shall spend my days in prayer, obedience, and charity.  I could hardly consider that a loss in any sense.  Well do I love my solitude, and it would take someone very impressive to change that.

I am nearly nineteen years old now.  My dreaminess has matured perhaps.  I find myself admiring the simple beauty of doing household chores, rather bemoaning their ordinariness.  My idle daydreaming has morphed into a socially acceptable form called “being a writer”.  The great part about being a writer is you don’t even have to write, you can merely drink a lot of coffee while staring at your laptop contemplatively or looking up name meanings for character depth.

I do not think my romanticism is a virtue.  In fact, it could become detrimental to me if I rely on it too heavily.  But it also has given me a deep appreciation for life, for every little place and thing in which beauty can be found.  I don’t have to be on an actual pirate ship to see wonderous things and sing with my friends.  I don’t have to have to live in a high fantasy setting to live fantastic a good story or do awesome battle.  The wonderous things may be dew drops on dandelions, the songs with friends may be off-key Hotel California, and the battles may be against my own inner demons: my slothfulness, my doubt, or my pride.  Whether I marry or not, whether I stay in one place all my life or go out and see the world, my life IS a romance story, in a humble way.  So I do not consider myself a hopeless romantic, pining for an existence that cannot be. I am a hopeful romantic, and I will continue to hope until the end of my days.

–A.P.S

A Reflection on 2019

Posted on by 5 feet and 4 inches of Spring Cleaning

So it seems that 2019 is essentially over.  As usual, it is bittersweet to recall everything that happened in my world this year and to think of how I will continue to learn and grow in the coming year of 2020.

I went into 2019 fiercely optimistic. I felt that 2019 was MY year. I was going to absolutely own everything I attempted. Gone was the shyness and high anxiety of my early teen years.  This is who I am! I thought.  Finally, my identity seems solidified. I am a Christian, I am a daughter and a sister and a friend.  I’m a sinner struggling to love God in a world that insists I love anything but.

     In 2019, I was going to graduate high school and start college, and I was confident that with a few prayers, I would rise to any complication or challenge.  I was also very happy. I strode into my fast-food job in January (at that point I had had the same job for a year and a half) and I greeted customers enthusiastically and received many smiles in return.  I was on a wave of euphoria; life was difficult but I was tough.  The one thing that marred my sense of invincibility was the painful loneliness that caught me in quiet moments.  “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” became my anthem and I lived.  My final semester of high school passed almost without my noticing.

In August 2019, I moved out of my mom and stepdad’s house and onto a college campus.  I cringed when I emptied my savings account to pay for the cost of such a living situation.  Suddenly I’m living on my own and buying my own toilet paper,  but I thank God and my parents that I had been well prepared for this inevitable moment.  I got a job in an office on campus and I maintained a 4.0 GPA.  For the first couple of months of the semester, I struggled with very deep loneliness and feeling out of place.  I wept frequently from the sheer misery, for misery it was.  I have always been an introvert, but Joseph Roux said it best when he declared that “solitude vivifies; isolation kills.”  Yet I eventually found comfort and support from old friends and new, and from some people who I never expected to care.

In 2019, I met a lot of people from differing backgrounds.  I didn’t become close to anyone at my college, but I admired sincerely my roommate, professors, and peers.  There were a few key individuals who had the greatest impact on my social life.  I had the pleasure of growing close again to a very old friend, while at the same time watching close friends drift away to places I could not comprehend.  I met a new friend who has become surprisingly dear to me and a real comfort.  I had one professor whom I absolutely admired and she likewise empathized with the views I put in my essays and encouraged me in my creativity.  I do not feel now that I have no one to turn to, as I did at the beginning of the year.

In 2019 I became a legal adult.  I started drinking energy drinks.  I started DMing my own D&D campaign.  I decided to make a more concerted effort to be compassionate to every single human being I met, because I am sick of my own judgemental thoughts.

To everyone who offered me money, a place to stay on weekends, friendship, and even (or perhaps especially) a kind word or comforting pat on the back, thank you.  From the bottom of my heart.  It may be cliched, but I am so genuinely grateful for the little things.

My resolution for 2020 is a modest one, but able to be accomplished I think.  I intend to write every day.  Starting with 5 minutes a day in January, 10 in February, 15 in March, and so on until I have December when I habitually write for an hour every day.  Although I dabble in other sorts of art casually, I have no greater creative outlet than writing.

Happy New Year, one and all.  May 2020 be filled with peace, hope, and safety for you all.  God bless.

Something Beautiful

Posted on by 5 feet and 4 inches of Spring Cleaning

You walked into my life so casually

And I welcomed your approach so carelessly.

I had my doubts but you kept on

You were an earthquake and you shook down

The fortress of my heart

And presented me with tender, bubbly balloons

of effervescent happiness and playful affection

Which, as it turns out, are exactly the things

That grow best in my heart

With the sunshine of my temperament and the spring rains

of trusting, dreaming youth.

This could be the start of something beautiful.

You jested and joked

Flattered and flirted

Ignominious sinner that you were

Earthquake toppling my preconceived standpoints, solid ground

From beneath my feet and I was falling

Rapidly falling without looking to see if you would catch me

Falling in love.

This could be the start of something beautiful.

Plummeting ever faster,

Uncontrollably toward the craggy floor of a ravine

I fooled myself (oh fool!) into thinking I saw you there.

It was a mirage

Created by the settling dust of the Earthquake.

This could be the start of something beautiful.

The dust was nearly settled

Dismay and Doubt and Fear

Caressed my mind as the gap between

My sorry soul and Despondency grew very very small.

A sudden painful jolt

That caught me from behind; I looked

And saw an Earthquake no longer, but a man.

This could be the start of something beautiful.

Gently and penitently, you drew me up

From that ghastly harrowing ravine.

You gave me an umbrella

That blocks those youthful rains.

 

The dust has long-since settled.

No more quaking in my heart.

My fortress rebuilt stronger 

Unassailable and unafraid.

I cling to my umbrella,

As I gaze from my castle walls

And I thank God for our friendship;

Your name is a blessing on my lips.

And I have no regrets.

This could be the start of something beautiful.

 

–APS    

Photo by Dovile Cizaite

Self-Care

Posted on by 5 feet and 4 inches of Spring Cleaning

Do you ever just have a bad mental health day where everything stresses you out and you can’t seem to get a minute to catch your breath and you want to cry but not around other people? Yeah, been there.

I started off 2019 on a high note.  This is the year I am gonna conquer the world. Nothing can take me down.  2019 is MY year.

And in a lot of ways, I still believe these things.  2019 has been good to me thus far.  But I am no longer feeling invincible.  In fact, I am very vincible. Self-care is harder than it sounds and I’m not that good at it.  Like anything worth doing, it takes practice and determination. You have to practice loving yourself when you are the most unlovable.

There are a million posts like this out there.  But where’s the harm in one more.  Mental health is vital to living a full, happy, and successful life. So here is what self-care is, from the perspective of yours truly.

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Self-care is going to bed at 9 o’clock even when your friends aren’t because you’re tired and need sleep.

Self-care is getting up at 5 or 6 AM so you have time to go for a run and shower and eat breakfast before work.

Self-care is letting yourself take the day off if you cannot emotionally handle the thought of your workplace at the moment.

Self-care is putting on your work clothes, putting on a bold lipstick, cracking your knuckles and marching out the door even though you don’t want to because capitalism isn’t gonna take you down without a fight.

Self-care is paying your bills as soon as you receive them.

Self-care is silencing your phone and sitting down with your favorite tea and a good book.

Self-care is not checking your phone fifty times a day waiting for a text.

Self-care is spending time working on a hobby.

Self-care is a long hot bubble bath, whether after a long day, or because you want to on your day off.

Self-care is doing a homemade facemask in your kitchen.

Self-care is saying no to an invitation simply because you don’t feel like going.

Self-care is calling up a friend to hang out because you need to get out of the house.

Self-care is putting on an apron, tying back your hair, and doing much needed housework.

Self-care is staying hydrated.

Self-care is spending at least 15 minutes in silence, not doing anything but breathing and existing and maybe praying every day.

Self-care is putting distance between yourself and that person who drains you emotionally.

Self-care is letting yourself cry.

Self-care is showering regularly, keeping your hair and nails trimmed, and wearing clothes you like.

Self-care is eating filling and nutritious meals to keep yourself energized throughout the day.

Self-care is eating your favorite dessert while watching the Office for the sixteenth time because you’re sad and it makes you feel better.

Self-care is going to therapy when you need it, and finding someone to talk to.

Self-care is writing down everything that’s making you feel sad, and a few reasons to be happy.

Self-care is starting a blog to talk about your feelings when there isn’t really anyone to talk to.

Self-care is baking cookies for your loved ones.

Self-care is asking for a hug when you need one.

 

There are a lot of things that count as self-care. I can’t speak for other periods in history, but it seems these days that anxiety, depression, and low self-esteem are affecting the majority of people in recognizable ways.  Please take care of yourselves.  Work hard every day to be the best version of you that you can be.

Stay strong, beautiful.  This too shall pass.

 

-A.P.S.

It is Better to Have Loved and Lost than to Have Never Loved At All

Posted on by 5 feet and 4 inches of Spring Cleaning

Since renaming my blog ‘There’s a Crack in My Rose-Colored Glasses’, my posts have actually become rather, well, rosy.  I’m a happy individual by nature, and I want to share the beauty I see with others.  Life is difficult but good.  But I can also have some rather dark thoughts.

I don’t just mean my tendency to laugh at 9/11 jokes or my quickness to think of the most gruesome ways my D&D half-orc barbarian can kill people with her bare hands.  I have struggled with depression in the past, and although it had a lot to do with my living situation and where I was spiritually, it was also because my mind goes to dark places.  This is partly due to my overzealous heart.  If you read my last post, ‘Heartstrings’, you may have a bit of an idea of how much I care about everything.  When I see the steaming mess that is our world: homelessness, suicide, gay pride, racism, bitterness, greed, consumerism, school shootings, abortion, discord among families, betrayal, divorce, lies, child abuse, cancer, and so so so much more, my heart is heavy indeed, and if I do not focus on Christ I slip very easily into despair.  So here is a peek, my dear reader, through the crack in my rose-colored glasses.

Is it truly better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?  So say the wise, and when I was younger I believed it.  It made sense.  Love is what makes us human, and with love comes pain.  The more you care, the more it hurts when those you love are hurt or lost.  There are different variations on love, but all that I mention here are facets of True Love, the setting aside of one’s own needs and wants to make way for another’s; the altruistic φιλία love that makes us willing to sacrifice even our lives to save our loved ones.

Anyway, I came to question the adage after I truly, deeply fell in love for the first time.  I won’t go into detail here, but in short: it didn’t work out, we rarely saw each other, and I was afraid to hurt him and I blamed myself for “leading him on” although my feelings were genuine and I had only told him the truth.  The point came where he told me something and I knew it was a dealbreaker.  For another year, I was in denial.  I was in pain.  I layed awake at night crying and missing him.  I would think off him sometimes while working and the stab in my chest would cause me to murmur his name, as though to summon him to me, to take back what he said, to comfort me and to be there.  I didn’t tell him things weren’t going to work out, because things were never official between us.  The heart-twisting, mind-crushing, terrible terrible pain I had in this were what caused me to doubt that it was better to have loved and lost.  I wished I had never fallen in love with the guy.  I wished I could take back the love-emails I had sent him, so as not to risk his heart.  To hurt myself was bad enough, but I think it was compounded by the fact that I might end up utterly crushing him as well.  Of course, one might argue that I learned and grew from this experience, and I did. I just would prefer learning lessons in a way that doesn’t break my heart.

The pain of loss is hardly peculiar to romantic love, but I suppose that it is the one I’ve experienced the most, other than friends moving away or a friendship simply drifting apart.  Which does really hurt, but I can still reconnect with most of those people.  They aren’t dead and we don’t have any feuds.  But when I see parents mourning a child who has died far too young, I imagine that their pain must be beyond imagining, and no parent should have to go through that.  Is loving someone really worth the absolute torment when they are parted from us?

I want to question whether there can be a separation between love and attachment.  If you accept every person, place, and thing in your life as transitory, can you healthily embrace the Jedi philosophy of being compassionate to all; that is loving unconditionally, but not growing attached?  Is attachment a natural and good result of love or is it a human weakness?  Perhaps, it is better to have loved and let go, so that your love may continue peacefully in your heart indefinitely and you needn’t feel the pain that accompanies the losing.  Is this a real thing?  Will you still hurt for the sake of loving a person even if you can easily let go?  These things are all rather beyond me.

I only know that I’m scared.  I am so scared to fall in love again and make myself vulnerable to pain. I’ve never had to attend the funeral of anyone who I was really close to, but again, I can’t imagine losing my parents, my siblings, my close friends.  I don’t want to lose them, and I’m scared that if I do I won’t be able to handle it.  Pain is a part of the fallen human condition and suffering can bring about salvation, but is this level of emotional pain necessary?

Readers, I put the question to you, in the hopes you can give me an alternative perspective on this topic:  Is it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?  And is love separable from attachment?

 

Thank you for reading.  God bless!

 

Anneliese