First of all, i do want to apologize for my depressing musings. I can’t help it, for these are the things i just happen to be thinking about. And i don’t think they’re all that depressing in all honesty, these feelings are a part of life.

Broken hearts. How to mend them. I will begin.

I really want to say, before anything, that being broken-hearted is so painful that it’s almost magical. You’re living a completely different kind of existence, in this kind of limbo where you wonder how you’ll ever feel complete again. You know logically that being broken isn’t permanent, that you’ll fix yourself right up and throw yourself back into the world once more. But it’s hard. Every love song on the planet has made the observation that days feel like years, that even the most intense of intoxications can’t dull the unending pain, and that there really isn’t a way to mend a broken heart.

Like I’ve said before, love is really weird. It defies logic and drives the most rational of people absolutely insane. Love lingers for a long time in heartbreak, and any positive attempts at removing its presence usually results in failure. It’s a lose-lose situation, and the more you try to get rid of it, the more you totally fall on your face and bleed all over the floor, hitting yourself because you saw this exact moment in your past minds-eye.

And I’ve been broken-hearted before, I’ve healed, and I’ve become normal again. But how did i do it? If i try and think really hard about recovering from a heartbreak and specifically, what i did to be normal again, i honestly can’t remember. It’s like i blocked all of the pain of recovery from my memory. This happens whenever i try and think about something really excruciatingly painful — writing academic papers for example. Those are horrible processes filled with anguish and acne, yet i can’t remember writing a single paper. Surely I’ve written over 30 papers in the past 4 years, but i can’t remember ever actually doing any work. Completely erased, totally recovered. It never happened. Here i am again, back at square one.

I guess there is some consolation in knowing that I’ll forget about all of this in a year or two. That I’ll be ok in time, and that whatever i do now will be whatever i need to do to feel better. I just have to live day by day and think of what will bring me happiness in each moment. This philosophy doesn’t differ from what i should be doing anyway, but i think it’s particularly relevant for those of us who are struggling to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I ask myself if I’ll ever be ready to be emotionally and physically with someone again, and then i think, hey, that’s ridiculous. When i experienced heartbreak for the first time, i was certain that i would never love anyone like i loved him. Nothing could ever beat that love! But lo and behold, i fell in love even harder the next time around. I morphed into a woman, i shifted my perspective of the world, and i made incredible memories with an incredible man. Who could be next? How will i fall in love again? I’m excited for the future, and I’m excited to experience more incredible human beings when I’m ready.

So on this road of recovery and discovery, i shall savor the magic of heartbreak and when that’s not enough, think of the endless possibilities in my future loves. No mending, just a different perspective maybe.

It is very unsurprising that nearly a week before Valentines Day I feel the need to talk about Love, and particularly, Falling In Love.

I remember very clearly the times I told people I loved them, and even more clearly when I told them I was in love with them. I have always been the first one to say it, and each time was met with embarrassment from unreciprocated feelings, and once, a horrific breakup. To love and admit to it is a powerful thing, and it has always been a painfully vulnerable moment for me. Never have I had a positive first “I love you” experience, and yet I still keep going. I persist!

Even worse, by the time I muster up the courage to tell someone I love them, I am usually deeply in love. But oh! would it be a disaster if I were to jump into that kind of verbiage before the very tame “I love you” — it’s a completely different message. I love many people, but I am often only in love with one person at a time. It’s both an enormous compliment and an unbearable responsibility, but unfortunately the latter always reigns for these lucky men. They think I’m nutzo for feeling the most beautiful emotion one can experience, and especially for telling them about it. My conclusion is that most people are afraid of beautiful things!

I am sure too that there are millions of people in the world right now who wish to confess their undying love for another, yet have also had similarly unpleasant experiences doing so in the past. Or maybe they’ve never been so vulnerable with another person and they’re afraid of the possible rejection. I can’t say it gets better. But it is always a better idea to put your thoughts and feelings about the people you love out into the world rather than bottle them up inside. Cheesy, yes. Factual? Also yes.

I wrote a poem along these lines when I was a bit younger.

Love.

It’s when he traces the palms of your hands,

And you feel the electricity,

Skin on skin.

It’s when your minds are so connected,

That one look can be

An entire conversation.

It’s when you feel like

You’re just

The luckiest two people in the world.

It’s when you can sit in traffic

For nine hours

Without killing each other.

It’s when you say

“I love you”

And you both start crying,

Because love doesn’t mean it always works out.

And that is my Wednesday bit on love. There is certainly more to come.