Sometimes I think we live to break each other’s hearts. I know the point is that we are learning, evolving, but why in the world does this require so much heartbreak? Our children die. Our parents die. We die. You created this beautiful thing, but also this ugly, blistering dark side, and somehow we’re expected to embrace/endure accordingly? To turn on an effing dime? I’m not complaining, really. I understand I am lucky to be, for the most part, physically healthy, earning a living, happily married, and mother of two teenagers who are model citizens.
But these hearts that flip and flop, inversion and reversion, it’s off-putting and unnerving. Why the “I am so happy and blessed” moments right alongside the undeniable dark underbelly? The dog/infant left in the car in the parking lot and suddenly we’re the one who has to go back into the store and ask the manager to either A) Make an announcement over the intercom for some dumbass to retrieve his/her dog/infant sitting in a hot car, or B) call the police because some dumbass has left their dog/infant in the car and someone from the Humane Society/Human Services ought to be summoned right away.
Really, God? Does this amuse you? Is this a growth experience for the beings you created? What about the damn puppy? What about the baby? What about the two teenagers, who are quite obviously your perfect creations, but who in rare moments confide (pretty much only if I’m driving) that they’re hurt, tired, confused , maybe a little angry, and without using any of those words?
Honest to God, I don’t mean to complain. I love those moments when I love my life. It is especially sweet when this sensation lasts for a day or longer. I just wish it wasn’t so damn fragile, that we all weren’t so effing fragile. And we didn’t go around breaking each other’s hearts, whispering sadness and hope from the passenger seat as we consider what we might have for dinner.
But these hearts that flip and flop, inversion and reversion, it’s off-putting and unnerving. Why the “I am so happy and blessed” moments right alongside the undeniable dark underbelly? The dog/infant left in the car in the parking lot and suddenly we’re the one who has to go back into the store and ask the manager to either A) Make an announcement over the intercom for some dumbass to retrieve his/her dog/infant sitting in a hot car, or B) call the police because some dumbass has left their dog/infant in the car and someone from the Humane Society/Human Services ought to be summoned right away.
Really, God? Does this amuse you? Is this a growth experience for the beings you created? What about the damn puppy? What about the baby? What about the two teenagers, who are quite obviously your perfect creations, but who in rare moments confide (pretty much only if I’m driving) that they’re hurt, tired, confused , maybe a little angry, and without using any of those words?
Honest to God, I don’t mean to complain. I love those moments when I love my life. It is especially sweet when this sensation lasts for a day or longer. I just wish it wasn’t so damn fragile, that we all weren’t so effing fragile. And we didn’t go around breaking each other’s hearts, whispering sadness and hope from the passenger seat as we consider what we might have for dinner.