Love is a motherf****r

Love looks a lot of different ways. It wears a lot of different clothes. It takes off one hat and puts on another.

Maybe love doesn’t get to look the way you want it to, today.

Maybe your heart longs to fix, but love is asking you to wait.

Maybe your will is shaky, collapsing, and your hand is creeping toward that thing you know you shouldn’t have. What if love looked like giving yourself something different to hold today?

Love is not a feeling, love is an openness to all the feelings.

Today they might be very bad feelings, very difficult, the kind that stab through you and make every movement painful.

Sometimes love is cozy and we get to feel safe and warm and relaxed.

But sometimes, maybe today even, the work of love is to separate things, to allow distance, to enforce boundaries.

Sometimes love is picking strawberries and sometimes it’s scrubbing the stains off the wall. Maybe it’s ordering the birthday present. Maybe it’s making that phone call you don’t want to make as your heart thuds in your chest.

It goes from one to the other in a flash, it leaves us spinning.

You’re holding a baby. You’re holding the hand of a dying parent. Somewhere in between you have to figure out how to hold onto yourself.

Love will fuck you up, love will eat you alive, love will turn your nights into terror and your days into a pile of ashes. And the more people you love, the more ways there are to suffer.

Love is a beast, love is a monster, love is a howling storm.

Hold on, hold on tight. It’s the only good reason to be here.

Hold on. Hold on.