What is the most important thing to you in life?
Five years ago, I would have said love without a doubt…without even thinking about it. But, today, I’m not so sure. Does that mean something? Have I been jaded? Hmm, maybe that’s one of the “scars” from that fucked up ass relationship. You know, if I really think about it, this is a really big deal. The fact that I can’t say that love is the biggest thing at stake for me is huge. Love is all I’ve ever cared about. But, now, I have to actually think about how much it means to me at all.
I just talked to a friend and when I posed that question to her, she said love. Unequivocally, LOVE. “I know it’s so cliche to say, but it’s love.”
The funny thing is, I’m in love. I’m in love with a man that I know I want to be with for the rest of my life. But that love has evolved into something…I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s definitely not the “ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t live without each other” love that Carrie Bradshaw talked about. Well, wait, it is the can’t live without each other love. It just isn’t ridiculous, inconvenient, and consuming. Is that maturity? Or is that the thing that happens when people get married or have been together so long it feels like you’re just living with a roommate? I don’t know. I guess I’m old enough now to know that being in love doesn’t mean you have to be in a constant state of upheaval. Maybe what I was experiencing before was just infatuation. Obsession. Co-dependency. I need you to make me feel good about myself. I need you to validate my self worth. I don’t feel like I need that anymore. I just need you to not make me feel bad about myself.
Maybe I’ve finally grown to the stage where I can feel good about myself by myself. I can stand alone with the knowledge that I’m good enough. I have worth apart from what you think of me and how you make me feel about myself. Is that maturity? Or is that the thing that happens when you start accepting yourself for the beautiful mess that makes you who you are? I know I’ll always be a little messy and rough around the edges. I may very likely never be able to stop participating in the occasional bouts of binge drinking that lead to excruciatingly long and shameful hangovers of the maniacal variety. But I’ve come to accept that part of me…or at least not judge it too harshly.
Back to the point. What do I care most about? What do I want more than anything in the world?
Huh… I really can’t answer that question. Does that mean something? Ha. Not everything has to fuckin’ mean something.