This entry is a little raw for anyone squeamish, as it discusses the reality of a woman’s menstrual experience. I acknowledge if it offends you with this warning. I also do not apologize. As it is our TRUTH and we all know and love at least one woman. So why not try to be a little more compassionate  that this is something she may live through. And needs support and love through. Or a loving reminder, to “just breathe”. 

Last night I awoke in the middle of the night twisted in my bed sheets, still sleepy, half awake and realizing I had bled through my several safety precautions (tampon and pad) into my underwear, pants and possibly the sheets I laid on. This is a moment that happens in EVERY woman’s life, at least a few times. Thankfully I had just returned from a weekend Bhakti yoga retreat hosted by the Twisted Monkey yoga studio in Philly. We didn’t only do yoga, but we meditated, practiced breathing, learned about yoga, doshas, chakras, had deep discussions about our inner most thoughts, fears and struggles, but most of all, we learned about ourselves, others and love, also known as Bhakti. 

Back in my room, under my sheets, finally home for a night in my own bed, I lie awake in a moment of frustration and suddenly for the first time cognitively in my life I say to myself, “just breathe”. We breathe all the time without thinking about it, but when we focus on the breathing its-self, it can be a completely different experience as I learned while pushing my body with breath instead of strength this weekend. 

With every twist and turn to remove my self from the Chinese finger trap of sheets and blankets, I breathed. As I moved my legs from the bed down to the floor, I breathed. On my careful walk from the bed to the door in the dark with possible unknown obstacles, I breathed. As I entered the abrasively bright lit hall that shocked me into being awake, I breathed. When I got to the bathroom and realized all my security precautions for containing my menstrual cycle had failed, I breathed. 

I sat for a moment and felt the breath move from my nasal passages, down my body into my lungs and belly, and arrive at my groin. I followed that motion for a few breaths in and out. I imagined tiny crystals at each chakra expanding on the breaths in and contracting on the breaths out. I stayed here in peace, and in all of my messiness I had yet to clean up. I allowed myself a moment to know that while I was messy, I was still okay. Typically for me this is the part where the disappointment  starts to boil. Thoughts like “why me?”, “this isn’t fair!”, and “I HATE being a woman!” surface and start to deteriorate the experience with a nagging shit storm attitude. This is also the point where I give myself permission to be a complete bitch for the rest of the day because if you bled all over yourself in the middle of your first night, after several nights of sleep, in your own bed, you’d be pissed off too. You’d be pissed off if you ever bled on your sheets. I along with most women I know, have got a few chances every month to do so. But tonight, I just breathe. 

As I start to clean myself up, trying to gather supplies, (yes, this is a job, and we need several supplies!) I realize the only thing I have that’s actually in place, is toilet paper. So I breathe. I manage to get to the hall closet for my feminine products, my still unpacked overnight bag which has the specific underwear I need in it,  under the sink to refill the wet wipes someone left empty while I was gone, and during it all, I am bleeding, but I am breathing. Again, typically when I got to the empty wet wipes, I would’ve given myself permission to curse silently under my breath, at the bastard that I live with, son or husband, they’re both cursed the same, for leaving the wipes unrefilled. It’s really a simple task. There are studies and signs that it doesn’t cause brain damage. But instead today, I breathe. I am actually slightly shocked that I am being compassionate in this moment and considering that maybe they were in a rush. Or maybe they just forgot. But I am certain they didn’t know I would end up here in the middle of the night bloody, defeated and already struggling with my womanly responsibilities, which is something I swore they somehow knew before and would do these things “on purpose”. <~ Who thinks like this? 

Me. 

When I have my period. 

And I’m bleeding all over in what seems to me like “to death”. 

But not today. Today, those thoughts are gone. No where to surface to, because I just breathe. 

When I get myself together, I’m all cleaned up and ready to attempt to clean all of the clothing, sheets and surfaces I’ve now bled on, I stop to take a moment and realize this was a privilege I was given in order to have my child. That this is the privilege my husband’s ex wife was given to have my bonus kids. That this is the privilege my mother was given so I could be here. Granted, it’s a little excessive, at an average of 456 menstrual cycles in a woman’s lifetime, I don’t really think I needed that many chances, but in this moment, I know some women do. So I breathe. For them, for their strength, for their perseverance, and for my gratefulness that I’ve already got the use out of mine, I breathe. I also calculate that I only have approximately 150 more to go before I’m finished. I won’t miss these moments. But when I look at my children and eventually my grandchildren, I will not be angry or frustrated that this happens, but grateful for this blessing. I think of this while I clean all the linens in the middle of the night. And I breathe. 

While on retreat one of the young ladies that also happens to be an instructor, talked to us about “the red tent”, a place in some cultures where women would go to bleed together. While there, they would care for one another, talking to one another, holding and touching each other for comfort, and braiding one another’s hair. I said I was going to set one up in my back yard. This whole incident wouldn’t have happened this way, had I been in the red tent. But I was handling it the way we would’ve handled it in there. I was in a red tent in my mind. Just breathing through it. 

As a woman, this time of the month can get rather messy, literally and figuratively. We aren’t our best selves because we are handling something that is not always contained despite our best efforts. It comes with a bunch of “other” things that are going on simultaneously and cannot always be controlled or contained as well. Today, thanks to this retreat and my yogi breathing and behaviors, I was able to breathe through parts of it. I can’t say if that will last or not, but it was an accomplishment in itself. 

What I can tell others handling a bleeding woman in their lives, is that many moments in a day, during a series of days, that come every month, could cause her to not be her best self. Just breathe with her, for her, and remind her to breathe herself and be gentle. While this gift is a privilege to some, to others it’s a curse and a reminder of what is not.

 Ladies, I encourage you to breathe, for yourself and your sisters. Men, I encourage you to breathe, for yourselves, and for the woman who went through this to bring you or your child, friend, cousin or spouse here. Support one another in a “red tent” way. But most of all, just breathe. 

I promise, you’ll get though it. 

Stunning are the moments we share while we speak, yet nothing gets said.

Peace is a façade here.

Laughter fills the room at the expense of our inner children.

Talented liars can dance around the elephant while rage fills the room quickly when the laughter fails.

Attachment to the name we call one another is all we truly have.

Respect was never given, and so never learned how to be given or received.

Alluring are the other possibilities. 

Tenderness was rare and yet somehow I knew was also necessary and wanted.

Bold moves needed to be made for my sanity,

Endearment lacked in every exchange,

Intimidation was more like it.

Hope was only found when I left, to feel some sense of subliminal divination.  

The unusual dependence for dismay and agitation continued to leave me frightened and would provoke an audacious essence inside of me where I would admire the discrete lack of  hurt, damage, abuse, heartbreak.

I was enticed to heal the broken, to fix the anguish and I found a joy in the breathtaking possibility of treating and curing the inconsolable.

Then I realized the one I needed to help was me. 

So I left the unmanageable. I accepted the things I could not change. I gained the wisdom to know the difference and I asked for serenity while I ran in the opposite direction of you. 

Maybe I’m selfish for wanting you to acknowledge me.

Maybe I’m just insecure.

Onto the next part of the journey… I will say this everyday. When I wake up and see the sun, I will know I’m on my way. In the right direction, and that I can trust the course, but also that I have to keep on getting in gear, moving forward, one step at a time.

You see, I kept getting hung up on you. I lived in all of the “shoulds” and “what if’s” and I’ve recently realized that I was the one responsible for manifesting insanity. Loving you was never easy, getting love from you was even harder, being near you makes me less of the person I want to be and that ‘should’ be enough evidence that we don’t belong together. Because we don’t belong together.

 I’m not trying to be evil or better than or perfect, by any means. I know I have flaws still, and plenty to highlight. But if I’m being honest, I don’t need anyone standing next to me and highlighting them for me. I live with me everyday. I’m fully capable of taking my own inventory. And I just don’t want to live your way.  I’m just trying to be the happiest me I can possibly be. If that means walking away from you, leaving you behind and never turning back regardless of all the shoulds and what if’s that could slap me in the face; or the regrets and the remorse that “you’ll be sorry“, then so be it. I know I’m happy now and that’s what I need, because tomorrow is never promised. And I hope one day, by setting this example, you’ll learn to seek happiness too. After all, you deserve it. You’ve just never been told that before and you’ve never felt worthy of happiness or love. And furthermore, my decision, to separate from you, was never about you, or to make you feel less loved, but to help me understand that there is a goal in mind and that in order to achieve a goal, you can’t just sit around and behave the way you always have. You can’t expect that thing that you want to just show up on your doorstep. I’m not your doormat anymore. I’m moving on for my own good, for your own good, for both of our benefits; so that you understand that you have to work hard to show love to those who deserve it and to stop giving all your efforts to those who don’t. Some say we choose who we will be, and who will be the significant people in our lives, before we come to this world. They say we sit with God, we pick details about ourselves and our loved ones and we say “that’s the one”, “those are the two”, “those are the ones for me.” I truly believe this now, I believe I chose you. I decided it was my job to teach you the lesson that we will get what we tolerate. And I Will no longer tolerate this behavior, this unsatisfying love. I deserve more. And so do you. 

Saturday morning, I sat on the deck stairs awaiting my puppy’s first outing. As i sat there I noticed this little guy out of the corner of my eye. Initially he had me fooled as if he were actually a part of a branch once attached to the railing of the deck that had all been cleaned away, all except for this piece. The stick insect, or Phasmatodea have several defense mechanisms as seen in this link. http://insects.about.com/od/stickandleafinsects/a/10-facts-stick-insects.htm
Did you know if there is no male around the females can reproduce parthenogenetically? Meaning, if you’re here, I will utilize you. If not, I’ll just do it myself. WOW! This made me think of the recent issues with LGBT(QI) community among plenty of other individuals or groups and their decisions to live a lifestyle that may not be accepted in some “circles”. 
Today I reiterated a lesson I have taught my son over and over about putting his hands out the open car window. I remember being a child and the wind feeling so amazing against my skin. I remember how it made the tight skin of the palm of my hand pull and flap, among placing pressure against my whole arm while it hung out the window. Then, as an adult I met a man who told the story of having his hand resting against the top of his open window as he drove down the highway; but he didn’t enjoy the flapping of his skin that was scraped off among the tendons, ligaments and nerves that were torn to shreds after the car was hit and rolled over his hand against the asphalt and caused him to need several surgeries and loss of some of his hands’ function. I told my son, “didn’t i tell you about my friend Ron, and what happened to his hand because he had it out his window?” 
My son, the smartypants, says, “mom, did you ever know anyone that fell out of a tree?”

To which I replied: “Actually, yes, my Uncle Dan. And he’s paralyzed from the fall.”

He then says, “well how come you let me climb trees then, and today when I fell out of one, you didn’t even freak out?”
He was ABSOLUTELY right. 
Sometimes it takes a small person with a literal mind to remind me, and the rest of us, that we cannot be afraid of all of the things we may not understand. Sure, we can have a list of defense mechanisms and a longer one of fears and lessons we have learned from others mistakes or mishaps, but the reality is, we are all here for our own plan, our own agenda, our own course. And we can spend it persuading others to see what we see and do what we would like, but maybe that’s not their method, and not a part of their purpose. 
The bible prophesied Jesus being crucified but everyone wants to point a finger at the Pharasees and Pontius Pilate. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but guess what, in order for the prophecy to come true, there had to be pharasees and there had to be a Pontius Pilate. Why would “God” condemn something that was made “in His image”? Afterall, we are all part of this greater plan, aren’t we? And if Jesus wasn’t crucified wouldn’t that make God a liar? Even Paul the apostle cut off the heads of Christians, but in todays world we are quick to condemn those that do things we don’t think are “right”. Didn’t God handle Paul? What makes us think God won’t handle ISIS? Or us for that matter? 
We all have a role to play in this life. Whether we are the stick insect making due with what we have or the literal child that questions fear based life lessons, or Pilate awaiting the prophecy we would give into because “the people were relentless despite our own objections”, I think we are suppose to live, and let live. 
Nelson Mandela Said it best: “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”
An except (rough draft) from upcoming book W.I.L.H.I.A.Y.C.F.J.I.A.F.H., by Roxanne Birth Nelson

Her

She 

Lovely

Quivering in the corner of a hand-me-down couch, by the light of the shadowy apartment lamp

Me

I

Lusting in anticipation of something not rightfully mine, but sinfully craved like the icing off the side of the cake or the first chocolate caramel of Christmas. 

They

Them

Brows raised, heads shaking, disappointment strewn across their faces thinking of the penalties while ignoring the gasps of enraptured bliss

We 

Us

fighting the demon that begs for our cooperation to give into the urges and engage in The act that will bring us to ecstasy.

Him

He

Left in the cold, unbeknownst yet with an inkling and wanting to get on the inside but never being given the truth

It 

Is

Pain for all angles, a confusion of desires and tangled web of lies to one another and ourselves

I wonder if we all get “here” at some point in one (or all) of our lives. To see all of the beauty that surrounds us in nature. To appreciate it ever so grately for our likeness to things that grow and die, which bring forth resources and leave behind memories. To acknowledge the impermanent spirit of all things while also recognizing their purpose, simple as it may seem to be. To be aware of and question man’s force toward impermanence at the cost of other men which is futile but enrages the others. We believe that trees and birds do not fight death yet slip gracefully into this “heaven’s” sent belief, but why then does a deer run from the sound of a shot gun bang? Does not resistance then, define our character? 

As I read Wordsworth’s poem “Lines Written in Early Spring” it made me think… I thought about my own struggles with the future of this country, the world, my own personal life and our children’s lives. Then I realized that there need not be struggle or worry in order to reach the impermanence, for we will all meet it at some point regardless. Poor Wordsworth. Poor younger me. Poor people still so wrapped up in what is to come… And the despair of what “man made of man”. We are impermanent as man. We will pass on. We will become something else once our bodies are left and who really knows what that is. And who cares! What does it matter, except where we are here and now and what we do with this moment, and the next. And this one. Right. Now. One brick at a time, my friend told me when I asked him how to do something. It wasn’t to build a wall. But it made sense nonetheless. One brick at a time builds resistance and shows the character of who you are attempting to become who you wish to be. It doesn’t have to be a struggle or a worry. What matters is that you put forth effort toward where you want to be, and follow through until completion. Other walls will be built. Many walls will fall. Where are you in the building of your own? Start here. Start NOW. 

We need to allow space for change and time for acceptance. It takes courage to accept just as much as it takes serenity. We need both, to be calm and brave, in order to face the harshest of realities of the lives we live and the lies we tell ourselves. We are all ugly in some way. We don’t always intend to be, but it comes out of us. And unless we are willing to face what is happening within ourselves, how can we possibly embrace what’s happening for others? Judgement hurts and is mostly painful. It is difficult to try and live under the pressure of its webbed fingers, holding us back from growth beyond its grasp. Which is where we all want to move toward, but struggle with. 

What will I do next? I don’t know. I know I want to work with my own acceptance of me as well as my acceptance of all of humanity. They all have intuition and reason; some of it, I may not comprehend. But its significance is great in the eyes of their own decisions. I want to be there. In the moment of their  reason, and question them until they look at themselves to really understand why. That is the true place of understanding. Where solitude meets a creative voice and questions the authority within. 

Photos above are my morning blogging space and the ladybug that joined me in it today. Later I realized these were literally what lies behind me, beside me and in front of me, which was quite an interesting thought after I wrote the rest of this post. So here it goes…

In just a little less than 24 hours I will be turning 33 years old. Everytime I think of that, I begin to weep. Not cry, not tear-up, but one of those deep from the soul overwhelming weeps. It’s not a sadness I am feeling though. I feel it is an internal marker of some sort. A coming of age. A place I have arrived to, that I never really imagined before now, and a time where a lot of “shoulds” come up for me. Its a place I remember thinking about when I was younger as “old”, and a time by which I thought I’d be set up in certain ways. A place I imagined I’d have it all together, and “just right”. It’s also a place where I am slowly but surely learning to “just be”. 

By 33 Jesus had locked in a number of followers, taught lessons that completely contradict a lot of the rules in the book he is connected to and was crucified. He had completed his “life’s” work. The rest was all what was left behind; his legacy, his spirit. I guess I thought I would be somewhere else by now. Where though, I am not quite sure. Hopefully not crucified, but maybe have a few more followers of looking outside the confines of societal rule and accepting people where they are, the way that I try to do. 

As I mentioned before, I am spending the next 6 weeks, as well as the past week, completing this creative “Inner Excavation” journey with an online group, courtesy of Liz Lamoreux. http://www.lizlamoreux.com/ During each week we follow prompts in a book and an online group to really dig into ourselves, our journey and our intentions. My intention for this journey is to find balance between where I’m at and where I’m going. I keep feeling like I’m just fine in my own eyes about where I am, but that the world would have me believing I am lost. And then at times, I too, question if I am indeed “lost” or “finding myself”. 

When I had to leave my career due to an injury, at which I brought home a significant income, I guess everyone assumed I would simply find something else to do that would pay me the same. Or pay me something. I’m not going to lie, I am concerned about money coming in, but I also know that everything I’ve done that has paid me in any way, has come from my own initial investment. Commitment to hard work, financial and/or time investments and perseverance through the “rough” times. Relationships, careers, opportunities. Even this creative journey needs time and commitment to get anything out of it. Sometimes I’m happy with my work, like my “From where I begin” poem and sometimes I just have to accept that I’ve given it all that I’ve got, like my “intertwined in this web” mixed media creation.  (See both in my last blog post: https://loveandlifeassistance.com/2016/06/27/from-this-place-where-i-begin/ ).

All of my work, at this, and in life won’t always meet my own expectations of “perfect”, so it certainly won’t always meet others expectations. I sometimes forget the reason Jesus was on the cross in the first place was because multiple people thought he was full of shit. Really it was because he challenged their own beliefs, and without those beliefs, they felt lost in some way. I recognize that I do that a lot too, probably not in a graceful manner like Jesus, but certainly in a “I’m sure my father/creator/source would see it this way” kind of persuasion. In short, I’m oppositional to all beliefs, but only because I think there’s something to the saying that “there’s more than one way to skin a cat”. (PETA: let’s work on this idiom, I dislike it a lot.) 

If we sit inside our bubble of perfection or desired perfection we will always fall short. I’ve seen some of the people in our creative group say they are “behind” in their work, simply because they didn’t do things on the timeline as posted. Do we ever just consider we are where we are at, and it’s in perfect timing? What if it’s just in our own timing? Why do we constantly compare ourselves to others? And who the hell do I think I am comparing myself to Jesus? Or anyone else for that matter?

Who do I think I am? 

Who am I?

I, 33, indecisive, direct, bold, persuasive, oppositional, the same, imperfectly perfect, completely incomplete, happy, set, flexible, holding on and letting go, sure I “know it all” and sure I’ll never know it all, content and dis-eased, confidently insecure, straightly queer, beautifully flawed, skinny obese, girl that farts and poops (oh my), and uses the “f” word, irritably calm, known, loved, here, present, loud and obnoxious, or silent and still obnoxious about it, ridiculous, challenging, complex, not for the faint of heart, brave, strong, afraid, loving, lover, lovely, warm, light, bright, intelligent, common, caring, charismatic, passionate, joy, anger, struggle, victorious, I am me. Right here, right now. Exactly where I am. And where I am meant to be. Where I meant to be. Because this is it, now. And there is nothing else and everything else that all added up to this. I am grateful for this moment being seen. 

Up until now: I’ve struggled with the relationship I have with the past and future. I was constantly living in one or the other.

From now on: BETTER YET: 

In this moment: I AM HERE. NOW. PRESENT. JUST BEING. Daring greatly to be me. 

I begin at the place where I wish to be nurtured,

I begin at the place where I’ll cultivate love,

I begin at the parts that seem to be broken,

I begin with the God within, not above.

I begin where my pain came rifling through me,

I begin where the sorrow weighed on me so,

I begin where the noise was too loud to hear this,

I begin where the meaning was written below.

I begin where I hold space, and created a void,

I begin where it’s necessary, to fill in the hole

I begin where the heart strings were severed and cut off,

I begin where I can begin; deep within my soul.

I begin where I find, the little girl in the corner,

I begin by embracing her, and thank her for being “strong”,

I begin by showing her a new possibility,

I begin by discovering it was me all along.

I begin by uncovering the world all around me,

I begin by letting go of what doesn’t serve,

I begin by setting boundaries and giving forgiveness,

I begin by demanding love I truly deserve.

I begin by being seen and standing up as worthy,

I begin by digging out the authentic me,

I begin by dismissing shame, embarrassment and fear,

I begin by making new roots for this damaged tree.

I begin by brushing off the dust all around here,

I begin by noticing the cracks are rather small,

I begin by mending then looking at the product,

I begin by the wholeness I’ve become from it all.

I begin from a place of lack and scare mentality,

I begin from this space that I didn’t belong,

I begin from a new perspective of understanding,

I begin by harmonizing with a new kind of song. 

I begin in the smiles, the happiness and glory,

I begin where grace and mercy are enough,

I begin where my heart feels like it’s finally soaring,

I begin as I always did, from a place intended for love.

This week I am beginning a 7week journey with soul sister Liz lamoreux Of http://www.lizlamoreux.com . We are doing some self exploration with her book titled:”Inner Excavation”. One of this weeks task was to write a poem with a prompt of “I begin…” Here is my gift of expression about where and how I begin. This took me all of 10 minutes where other tasks will be much more challenging. I hope you’ll challenge yourself to take some time to focus on the beginnings in your life, which can essentially be found in each moment. Where have you begun before? Where will you begin today? Where do you wish to begin in the future? And what’s stopping you from allowing that to be the place you begin in the present moment? Challenging isn’t it? 

I’ve been battling with the career change I’ve had to face since the moment I knew dental hygiene was over. I’ve been stuck in the ending. I knew that I could no longer practice hygiene, but I didn’t know where to go from there. And I didn’t know where to begin. So I spent the past two years jumping into other people’s hopes and dreams because I lack trust in myself to begin anything alone. I lack the acceptance that just because I don’t know, doesn’t mean I’ll never know. I lack appreciation for where I’ve been and what I’ve learned. I’m afraid. 

After writing this poem I realize that I have much to trust in, because I can be my own motivator and I can trust that I will always do what needs to be done to get the job done. I also realize I need to accept not only that a part of my life is behind me, but also that it has given me much experience. And I realize that I need to appreciate all the things I do know and things I do have and what I can take from that space into the future of whatever I do. 

I’m feeling relief that I have so much to give and have experienced enough that I can take all this knowledge into the future. I’m looking forward to what will unfold. I’m no longer living in the end of what was, but the beginning of what could be. 

Up until now, I felt restricted, uneasy, unable to have clarity about what will happen next. An end came and while it was partially expected and what I ultimately needed, it wasn’t the way I wanted it to end. I got stuck there, and felt trapped. 

From now on, I’m going to focus on what’s next, not in fear, but with excitement. I’m going to enjoy the beginning, being grateful for the past, accepting that something new is on the horizon, and trusting that I will know what I need to do or finding someone else  who does for every step of the way.  Let’s begin! 

In recent events, I was persuaded to meet with someone from my past who decided after a long break away from one another, to make amends with me.  I believed in their definition that “making amends” would mean they would admit to what they did wrong to me and ask me for forgiveness. However, this is not what actually occurred. At this meeting, this person and I sat down and they attempted to tell me that I didn’t hurt them as much as I had taken responsibility for. They then went on and expressed that while some of our interactions caused pain and heartache, they welcomed other parts of our relationship, and that in fact, it had helped them grow stronger. However, when I asked what they had come to make amends for they claimed they had done nothing to hurt me.

Oh REALLY? What about the time after our relationship where you befriended (and more) with someone that I had feelings for? What about all of your incessant demands on me that caused me to pursue this relationship longer than I had initially wanted to, out of guilt because you threatened to kill yourself? What about all of the broken glass I had to walk on to even get through to the small part of you that I did and tried to put back together? None of that was an attack though was it? None of it was with a slight spite for me and to draw me back in, manipulate and coerce me into something I no longer wanted, but was refused dismissal from?

Apparently not. When I brought up what I felt I had done, I really expressed myself. In every way possible. I said what I felt at the time and why I had made the decisions I had. I apologized and asked for forgiveness, not expecting it, but simply because I knew what I had done had caused pain whether it was intentional or not. I then asked about these other instances in which I was offended or by which I was hurt. It turns out, that they didn’t intend hurt toward me, but were just simply behaving in the only way they knew how to get attention and love. 

It’s a funny thing, love is. For some, it is what is given of oneself to another, in an attempt to model what they want in return. For others, it can be something that is done in exchange for something else, and while given forward, the expectation still lingers. But for the rare few people who can understand love unconditionally, it is purely an unselfish act of kindness. It is not given to receive anything else, to be bartered for or expected from, but simply to give love. It is an act or calling to care beyond receiving or exchange, except merely for the exchange of anothers pleasure. When I love, I love because I want to show love and to share love with another. Sometimes, I can see where people  on the receiving end, aren’t wanting what I am willing to give, or are curious about what I will want from them in return. But I love to give, not to receive. It isn’t that I don’t want to receive or need to recieve, it just isn’t the motivating factor for me to give of myself in the first place. When I love, I love because I know loving is the right thing to do. I love because giving love makes me feel good and gives me a sense of purpose. I love because I innately believe that it is only through giving love that you can ever truly understand what it is that you desire, need or care for. Not necessarily from that person or upon exchange for the love you’re giving away at that moment, but for deeply understanding your authentic self. 

Agreeing with them even when I disagree or continuing relationships which are not healthy is not what I mean by this. Sometimes you have to allow disagreements to occur, and sometimes you have to be able to and willing to walk away for yourself, the other party, or what is best for you both. Sometimes loving someone unselfishly means parting ways permanently,  because while it may hurt, it may also be the best thing for everyone involved. None of these things are easy. But absence makes the heart grow fonder and when you’re away from someone you disagree with or someone that manipulates or hurts you in anyway, it can be much easier to love them, than when they are near. Take some time away from someone you are struggling with. Sometimes that’s all it takes for you to love them with no return on your investment and to appreciate the better sides of them, and furthermore, of yourself.