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Love and pain

We all dream about something - a longing for a place, a person, a way of life maybe.


Unconsciously, I was capping my dreams.

Keeping it realistic and envisioning myself alone. I thought I was happiest alone.


I love people, a lot - but I have never been able to handle being around others for too long without feeling drained. It’s no one’s fault. Or rather, if there is fault to be found - it is my own.

I want others to be happy. I want everyone to feel joy. When I am around people - I want to somehow contribute to their joy. It’s not a conscious attempt most of the time so it’s not something I can switch off.


As I got older, I started to realise that I felt most at peace alone, with no one else to please but myself - and all I need to make me happy is nature.


I felt something was missing but wouldn’t give the feeling the opportunity to fully be recognised.

I was afraid, I guess. Afraid that I wouldn’t be enough - and I was all I had.


By some beautiful disaster and a broken bone - my broken bone, I ended up where I didn’t want to be and it’s there that my life changed.


I looked up from the table that I was sitting at and saw Stefan. We didn’t speak - not for another two months, until he confessed what he felt when he saw me that day.

I had felt it too.


I looked into his eyes for a short moment and something came over me that I still can’t explain or describe.


I smiled and looked down quickly, feeling suddenly nervous and confused even.


I didn’t know what had just happened and tried to pretend it hadn’t.

I didn’t know his name then, just that he was the dude on the media e-bike.


The gorgeous dude on the media e-bike, I just saw.


Life went on and a couple of weeks later, he followed me on Instagram.

I recognised him and my heart jumped.


I followed him back, wondering what this meant - if anything.

Maybe he saw the Cape Epic article I wrote that featured in the online magazine and thought I was funny - perhaps it has nothing to do with that moment in Wellington, maybe he doesn’t even remember.


I wonder if he noticed that I’m funny?

He seems funny too.


He’s not saying anything. Shit.


Update: he said something.

He said it felt like his world stopped when he saw me that day.


And now, despite still living on different continents, I’m no longer alone.

I no longer want to be alone.


His love has not only been the most glorious thing that has happened to me - it has also been healing in a way.


Healing in what it has made me realise about myself. I was so afraid to trust anyone.

All the pain from when I was a child has lived with me since my illnesses and despite having my family to count on during those times - there is pain that one can’t speak of.

There aren’t words for it.


It’s an unspeakable heartache for a child to endure a life-threatening, nauseating illness and to know the grief the illness is causing your loved ones too.


It’s a heartache I carried alone.

In a way, it became my friend - knowledge and belief that I can handle pain.


Only me, though. I don’t want anyone else to feel it. It’s too much.


Tears roll down my face as I type this.

I think they’re tears of relief - maybe because the little girl in me doesn’t feel alone anymore.


Because I can trust someone else, because my pain isn’t too much. Because even though I can handle it, I don’t have to handle it alone.



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