conversations with a disillusioned heart

while driving home...


me: i've never really liked valentine's day. in grade school it was a popularity contest, receiving those valentine-o-grams with lollipops or balloons. i wasn't liked, let alone popular. in high school, i'd already been injured enough by males to get a kick out of dumping boyfriends a few days before valentine's day. married, there was the bouquet of stargazers for a couple years, then nothing. valentine's day sucks.

now there's someone who called me up to ask, "hey, what do you want to do for valentine's day?" it surprised me. *looking over shoulder to change lanes* i made him dinner last night, and we enjoyed wine, italian, and movies at his place. i never said anything, but it was my valentine gift.

my Disillusioned Heart: but i thought you never made dinner for anyone if it wasn't special.

me: i don't, but that's just it. i'll cook for family. i cooked for the special men in my life. but i couldn't help it. i just wanted to.

my Disillusioned Heart: but you didn't want to get serious. you said you were done with men, with hoping for a husband, with believing in that kind of love being possible in your life. you're such a flake!

me: i don't understand it. the one relationship i've tried so hard to keep from getting serious is the relationship that's turned out to be the most rewarding i've ever been in. i know that should tell me something, but what? i'm not yet sure. *downshifting for slower traffic*

my Disillusioned Heart: it tells you serious relationships are never rewarding. every time you got serious, you got fucked and i got smashed to pieces. this last time with *m*? the fucker put me in a blender! do you know how NOT fun it is to be frappéed? i'm a fucking pile of goo now. no pieces to put back together. thanks for that, by the way.

me: i know, i'm sorry. i should have protected you better. my naïveté and trusting nature shouldn't be an excuse. but i don't agree with you, either. my love role-models show me committed relationships are among the most rewarding things in the universe.

my Disillusioned Heart: they're merely the exception proving the rule.

me: people all over the world have rewarding, committed relationships.

my Disillusioned Heart: *raises a brow* seems like everyone but you, huh?

me: no need to be so hurtful. and no, not everyone. if everyone had the same special gift, it wouldn't be special anymore, would it? ...'cept for the gift of life. that's always special, and everyone has that.

my Disillusioned Heart: *scoffs* too bad so many people squander it. don't appreciate what they take for granted.

me: just because they're blind to the specialness doesn't take it away, though. it's always there. just like my own specialness has always been there, whether They ever appreciated it or not. you and i? we let Their blindness convince us we were just seeing things, hallucinating our own specialness. we were wrong.

my Disillusioned Heart: ain't nothing special 'bout amorphous goo that used to be a heart.

me: *laughs* 'cept that now i can take that goo, like cake batter, and bake it slowly in the warmth of peace, forgiveness, and self-respect. spread the Funk on you like cream cheese frosting. when it's done, you'll be whole again. good as new, but stronger. denser. moist and sweet and delicious. maybe you, my oft-broken heart, had to be completely destroyed --frappéed, as you put it-- to put you into the perfect consistency for resurrection. wouldn't that be exactly what our goddesses do? compassionate destruction to utter completion? resurrection to a stronger, purer Self?

my Disillusioned Heart: shut up.

me: perhaps you had to utterly die, my heart, in order to truly live again.

my Disillusioned Heart: *quiet a moment* ...you sound like you actually believe this bunk.

me: i do.

my Disillusioned Heart: next you'll be telling me you love this whacked relationship you're in; "The Serious Relationship That's Not."

me: *sigh* i do.

my Disillusioned Heart: *accusing glare* you said you loved him last night.

me: *whispered* i know.

my Disillusioned Heart: *narrows skeptical eyes* what are you gonna do about it?

me: nothing i haven't already done.

my Disillusioned Heart: good.

me: not for the reasons you think, though. quite simply, you're not ready yet. and i've let go of that dream.

my Disillusioned Heart: i'm not going to convince you i'm right, am i?

me: no, my heart. it is i who will convince you.