We don't belong to no one
That's a shame
- from "Name", by the Goo Goo Dolls
It's a line in a song, I've heard a thousand times since it first came on the radio in 1995. I didn't want to believe it then and I don't want to believe it now. I wanted to prove it wrong.
I wanted to believe that a soul-mate filled you with what's been missing. I wanted to believe for so long that another person would make me feel complete.
Recently I was reminded that soulmates are meant to compliment, not complete us.
The word "alone" has long held such a fearful connotation for me. Just the verbalization of it ringing in my ear, lingering like a church bell.
Only recently have I begun to understand that I am actually not alone.
That I am single, but I am far from alone. That I live and work in a metropolitan area many people refer to as cold and lonely, but I am not alone. That even though my passion lies in the solitary act of writing, something that for the most part, no one can do with me or for me, even there, where for so long I thought I just needed to be alone to get things done, I've found that the reverse is also true.
Community is so important. Speaking the truth is so important. Looking reality in the eye and saying - I see what's happening and I'm willing to acknowledge it.
Not only that, but if I don't like what it's creating, I'm willing to do what needs to be done in order to create a more pleasant alternative.
We are never really stuck.
I've felt that way so many times.
I've sat frozen in fear on my parents couch, replaying a mix tape of self doubt, tracks of every potential negative outcome I could dream up.
One Sunday afternoon in particular I sat on that couch in my parents' living room with tears streaming down my cheeks. I was 24 or 25 - these years are starting to blur together now. But I do remember clearly my dad sitting next to me on the couch, putting his arm around me, and reminding me, We all make mistakes, Meg.
He's made mistakes.
I've made mistakes.
We all make mistakes.
I sat sobbing into my dad's shoulder that afternoon wondering aloud how to move forward. My dad and I didn't always have these type of conversations. At 15, I'm not sure I could have ever imagined that I'd be sharing a moment like that with my father. But this is what conversation does. This is what vulnerability and honesty offers.
I'd never felt less alone than that moment with my dad.
My dad couldn't promise me anything
No one can promise me anything. A positive outcome cannot be guaranteed in any event - in any decision. But when I am wholly honest with myself about my intentions, and about my desires and my motives - when I share that selflessly with another - my world expands.
I may not belong to anyone. No one belongs to me - but today I can love everyone. I can love with abandon and believe that I am loved deeply by so many people.
I can believe that I am a truly fortunate heart. That truly, it's never too late. And actually, this we don't belong to no one thing, is quite a liberating consideration.
One not to fear, but rather to embrace.
I spent my early teens, high school years, college days, and early twenties even daydreaming that the perfect love would set me right. Too many Disney movies, 90's high school rom-com's, Cosmo mag pictorials of beautiful sexy twenty somethings embracing, seeming blissful in their togetherness.
There are moments of bliss like that with another.
There are moments of bliss with family, with girlfriends, with the men I've dated. But All of it is an extension of the truth that we do not belong to one person, but we belong to all. I belong and identify with each human being.
I am never alone in fact. And in this partnership with humanity, as I bear witness to it, I continue to move toward becoming the best version of myself. To welcome love and friendship and partnerships that will continue to expand my connections.
I never have to be alone.
Neither do you.
You are not alone.
Never forget, you are not alone in your pain, your sadness, your insecurity.
We are all in it together.
Remember to love.
It will come right back to you.
Believe it. It is the truth.
Love.
Xo,
Meg
That's a shame
- from "Name", by the Goo Goo Dolls
It's a line in a song, I've heard a thousand times since it first came on the radio in 1995. I didn't want to believe it then and I don't want to believe it now. I wanted to prove it wrong.
I wanted to believe that a soul-mate filled you with what's been missing. I wanted to believe for so long that another person would make me feel complete.
Recently I was reminded that soulmates are meant to compliment, not complete us.
The word "alone" has long held such a fearful connotation for me. Just the verbalization of it ringing in my ear, lingering like a church bell.
Only recently have I begun to understand that I am actually not alone.
That I am single, but I am far from alone. That I live and work in a metropolitan area many people refer to as cold and lonely, but I am not alone. That even though my passion lies in the solitary act of writing, something that for the most part, no one can do with me or for me, even there, where for so long I thought I just needed to be alone to get things done, I've found that the reverse is also true.
Community is so important. Speaking the truth is so important. Looking reality in the eye and saying - I see what's happening and I'm willing to acknowledge it.
Not only that, but if I don't like what it's creating, I'm willing to do what needs to be done in order to create a more pleasant alternative.
We are never really stuck.
I've felt that way so many times.
I've sat frozen in fear on my parents couch, replaying a mix tape of self doubt, tracks of every potential negative outcome I could dream up.
One Sunday afternoon in particular I sat on that couch in my parents' living room with tears streaming down my cheeks. I was 24 or 25 - these years are starting to blur together now. But I do remember clearly my dad sitting next to me on the couch, putting his arm around me, and reminding me, We all make mistakes, Meg.
He's made mistakes.
I've made mistakes.
We all make mistakes.
I sat sobbing into my dad's shoulder that afternoon wondering aloud how to move forward. My dad and I didn't always have these type of conversations. At 15, I'm not sure I could have ever imagined that I'd be sharing a moment like that with my father. But this is what conversation does. This is what vulnerability and honesty offers.
I'd never felt less alone than that moment with my dad.
My dad couldn't promise me anything
No one can promise me anything. A positive outcome cannot be guaranteed in any event - in any decision. But when I am wholly honest with myself about my intentions, and about my desires and my motives - when I share that selflessly with another - my world expands.
I may not belong to anyone. No one belongs to me - but today I can love everyone. I can love with abandon and believe that I am loved deeply by so many people.
I can believe that I am a truly fortunate heart. That truly, it's never too late. And actually, this we don't belong to no one thing, is quite a liberating consideration.
One not to fear, but rather to embrace.
I spent my early teens, high school years, college days, and early twenties even daydreaming that the perfect love would set me right. Too many Disney movies, 90's high school rom-com's, Cosmo mag pictorials of beautiful sexy twenty somethings embracing, seeming blissful in their togetherness.
There are moments of bliss like that with another.
There are moments of bliss with family, with girlfriends, with the men I've dated. But All of it is an extension of the truth that we do not belong to one person, but we belong to all. I belong and identify with each human being.
I am never alone in fact. And in this partnership with humanity, as I bear witness to it, I continue to move toward becoming the best version of myself. To welcome love and friendship and partnerships that will continue to expand my connections.
I never have to be alone.
Neither do you.
You are not alone.
Never forget, you are not alone in your pain, your sadness, your insecurity.
We are all in it together.
Remember to love.
It will come right back to you.
Believe it. It is the truth.
Love.
Xo,
Meg