It's Not You, It's Me

Most times we love first with our eyes before our heart has time to catch up. Our fantasies and desires take precedence over what our intuition may tell us. You look up to me as much as I do to you but the way I look into you scares you. It seems you don’t love yourself and have not made your journey yet.

You said I seemed distant too often, and it’s true. That I’m too grown for you and that’s true. That I am not happy, but that is only partially true. Happiness has many forms. I listened to your stories and see strength and courage in you. I observe how you hold your hobbies close to your heart to take your mind off your insecurities. I witness something more than your porcelain skin and deep green eyes. I detect someone who has yet to live and at the same time a young, crying soul inside. A mirror. I've lived your footsteps before. My soul hears you. You’re absolutely beautiful both inside and out. Captivating green, cat-like eyes with an incredible smile. Dimples to anyone who tickles you. And an incredible figure that is too impressive to pass by unnoticed. Your character seems unphased by life’s hardships with a story and raising as sad and heartbreaking as one could feel for another. So it's not you, it was me.

I felt I have lived for so long. From a child, I experienced many hardships. From abuse, divorce, moving around, new parents, unfamiliar areas, neglect, and tough-love friendships. I used exercise and running to push myself through the day as young as 5. I sought new experiences and adventures to fuel my desire for love and attention, often times by myself. Protecting my sisters from foes and standing up to bullies to guide myself down a heroic path no one had set for me. A person couldn't live my life and not have a strong sense of identity. Yet, I felt alone. I desire to share my stories; a past as hectic as the creation of the moon. A present life as confusing as unfamiliar constellations in the night sky. And a future as bleak as a desert. To tell my life would take a lifetime of moments you didn't seem ready for. It is true when I said it wasn’t you, it was me.

I’ve worked hard my entire life, too many times alone. I helped others when I could, and earned amazing stories to share. I beat my body with every sport I could, occupied my mind with many books I desired, and fed my soul with my writings and drawings. It didn’t stop there. The Army was just the same. I’ve seen constellations, sunrises, and sunsets in countries all around the world. I’ve ran paths that lead me to new adventures in different cities. I challenged my peers and leaders in as many sports as I could and competed in intellectual challenges that if I failed, I tried again. I volunteered more times than I can count. I did most of this alone with no one to inspire me but hardwork and temporary souls. I learned to love myself and often encouraged myself to collect memories. It is me, not you. I promise.

My deployments I spent alone, leading my soldiers with no one to lean on. I faced challenges alone in a changing environment. I watched as meteorites streaked across foreign skies, listening to Echo waiting for someone to whisper, “there’s something about the look in your eyes,” and no one has yet. After the Army, college happened. New challenges, new friends, new faces, and new interests. I learned the hardships of my people and felt their tears. Seeing how my people are treated by others and affected by their own put scars in my mind. I knew that I was not alone, and yet, I still felt empty. I picked up new hobbies such as playing the guitar and taking amateur photography. Seeing the elements in a new perspective. Seeing the constellations as vibrant as sunlight. I treked this journey alone. So it’s not you at all. It’s me.

When my wife gave birth to my son Samuel, I knew fear and love had overcome me. How do I give my all to a child I only dreamed of? How do I share with him what I know if my wife hadn't even cared to know me? So I set forth and embraced Sam with all I had. We went and took photos together, dreamed together, ate together, watched tv together, played the guitar together and talked about life together. His first experiences were my own as well. Having a childhood I never experienced. Having a true best friend for the first time it seemed and loving everything about him. When he was upset, I cared for him. When he laughed and loved, I felt my heart’s content. Than Lucas came along and completed what was missing. Sam who is fearless and brave. Lucas who is sweet and guarded. Perfect matches of my character. We often ate lunch together at daycare despite having class and work. We all played together. We grew together. They made my heart feel complete. And yet, I felt something missing. I did these things alone because my wife had no desire to be there. So you see, it cannot possibly be you. It has to be me.

After my divorce, the pit was there. She despised me because she didn't love herself, not realizing self-love is a journey we must all take alone. Her abuse took years. I let her. I lost what I knew about myself. It wasn’t until I found a glimmer of soul that I awoke from a deep, co-dependent sleep. I dug and clawed at the walls. My children calling out from above, “daddy, don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.” Through their love I discovered a new love for myself in the pit, greater than I had imagined before. Memories and love are strengths in my journey that has shaped the way I see, the way I feel and how deeply I love. Why I hold people high and leave none for myself. I didn’t realize my own life path until I discovered the path I had forgot. It's me who seeks more for myself.

Now, I walk that path holding my childrens' hands to show them what this life has to offer. Teaching them to create and collect their stories and share happiness with those they meet. You see, how can you love others if you can't love yourself? She hadn't journeyed alone to understand her needs and what she can offer. If you can't master inner strength from being alone, what kind of love could you offer? I search for someone who looks pass a shattered shell, through the soul to see if love is pure. Who can trace the scars on my body and relive the stories of my past. Someone who can look into my children's eyes and see their hearts are bonded to me. It’s not you that has failed but I, in remembering my love is not solely mine to give. It is merged with the hearts of my children and the memories of my journey in a language only my soul speaks. Right now, our souls do not speak the same tongue and call out to one another the way we're meant too. I need a perfect puzzle piece that will fit inside with us three, so I wait. My soul is intertwined with my love, my children and my memories. How I love, who I love, and why I love. To neglect one of them means you cannot fully love any of them. A packaged deal.