Meg Dowell Writes

Every once in awhile I find myself trudging around with a strange uneasy feeling lurking in the depths of my soul. A near to unbearable weight sits on my heart, crushing it beneath its strength. Sometimes I beg for it to go away, even for a temporary slice of time. Sometimes I give into its poisonous powers and let it rule me. I wipe gushing tears from my eyes as the pain failes to subside.

Some would call it love sickness. But I refrain constantly from giving the feeling a name, for I do not contract the disease any longer. I have become immune to its affects. The weight on my heart is not because I am in love. The burden is there because I have allowed myself to wonder if I ever will be.

It’s the truth; crushes have come and gone; some lasting longer than others. I’ve made my mistakes and paid for their escape. I have acted without thinking first, and I have regretted those things. I have watched other people fall in love, and I have wondered what it feels like. I am not ashamed to admit those things.

I am, however, sorry to admit that I have been wrong. I have misled myself. I have, in the past, said “I love you” when and where I shouldn’t have. The worst part of all of that is that I’m not sure I meant it. I have never been kissed. I’ve never held hands with anyone I felt attracted to or done anything other than hugging and smiling until my jaw was sore. How can I even think of claiming to love someone when I have made so many mistakes?

I used to keep myself up night after night with these questions and more circling around in my head. They pecked at my insides like crows and threatened to tear me to pieces. Often times I found myself starting to believe that there was no one out there who would ever love me. I began to shred my dreams of glorious garden weddings and poofy white dresses that I did not even posess the hips for.

I’m not sure how. But somewhere between ongoing lovesickness and today, I grew up. I began to embrace friendship and life for what it was at the moment. I stopped asking myself “what if,” and I stopped regretting the mistakes that I had already been forgiven for.

I still wonder sometimes what it will be like to be loved by someone in male human form for the rest of my life. I still find myself dreaming of my wedding day, the face of my groom unknown and unremembered by me once I wake. But I have learned what it means to be patient. I have learned that there isn’t anything wrong with sitting back and just letting things happen on their own. Someday I will look back on the times I beat myself up about my mistakes and shake my head with a smile.

I will find love, as will everyone. You just have to stop looking, and he’ll come.