Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Running

Dear Darling,

What right have I to hurt?

That’s the first question you might ask if you spent a day inside my head. Why is there blood and no wound? Why pain and no injury? I’ve grown up in a good home. I’ve not faced any vast life tragedies or setbacks like so many that I know. I’ve had supportive parents and good family. I’ve been blessed with many opportunities beyond my wildest dreams. I’ve rebounded from some hard times, but not so bad by comparison. So why is there pain?

Why are you running? That’s the second question you might ask. What are you running from…or to?

Because I am. I’m running. There comes a time where you learn to appreciate moments in life where you recognize things about yourself, and that’s one of them. I’ve talked myself into this frenetic life, so much so that I’ve begun to realize I almost don’t have time for you! I keep commitments going. Jobs and volunteering and writing and working out and studying. I play music to drown out my thoughts.

Explaining yourself TO yourself doesn’t seem like it should be a hard task, but sometimes it is the hardest. Sometimes it’s a challenge just to figure out what questions you should ask yourself. I think those two questions were ones rising above the other ones in my mind the last few weeks. Other questions have accompanied, like, who am I? Who am I meant to be? Is it possible to botch God’s will for my life, or is it inexorable? Are I settling for too little? How much longer will I have to wait for you? How will I possibly know it’s you? Could I ever botch that area of God’s will for me? Could I ever forgive a woman who gave herself away to another man first? Should I? Am I at fault for being proud and unforgiving? Why do the sexual sins of others grieve and frustrate me on such a deep level? Do I know how to be happy?

So why do I hurt? It comes from listening to hurts. God gave me broad shoulders and a compassionate heart. It is a gift with which I look forward to serving you. I was meant to rise burdens, and I’m not bad at it. But I’ve spent a lot of time doing it, and sometimes you don’t realize how it’s all stacked up. You go through experiences that weigh you down. Holding patients and their families while they cry, watching someone die, calling up someone just to let them cry to you. I have a good bedside manner. I listen. I help broken hearts. I lift burdens. I talk. I advise. I hurt for them. I wish desperately I could have been there for their plights. People don’t understand why an unbroken man could carry so much hurt, or why. I know what it is to mourn because I have mourned with or about others.

And then there is the hurt that comes from loneliness. The times I find people that remind me so much of you that it hurts. The times of bowing my head, feeling defeated because I feel like the last person to uphold a command, then having trusted friends tell me I’m the problem because I can’t forgive. It comes from feeling the weight of those sins, feeling an eternal loss, grieving something that was never mine, feeling betrayed, feeling envious, feeling alone, longing for the same release. It can be an involuntary pain. Sometimes I have this hero complex when people tell me their sad story of how they came to give themselves away. I wish I’d been there, and think about how it would all be different.

I hurt because I see. I see because I look and ask. But seeing is painful. It’s no gift; I want to see things as they really are, but it’s never positive. What has been learned cannot be unlearned. Sometimes I can’t blame people for preferring ignorance.

All of them, literally only a few exceptions, even the Christian girls, give themselves away. “Get them young,” advised a friend. “Your assumption is that all girls ho it up after a certain age?” I retorted. I can’t be afforded, which is the rationale behind wondering if I should lower myself, seeing no one really up to the task of aspiring to make the same choices. Some say it’s arrogant to look at the world in these terms. Maybe.

There’s the hurt from being hated. The reason people like me is the reason they hate me. I represent something good. I’m “too good.” I’m too strict and should have more grace. True? Perhaps. People don’t want good. Except sometimes, when they’re hurting and want some help.

Is that a reason enough to hurt? Does that even begin to make sense to you, to explain me a little more? You tell me.

What about this running? Well that answer is easy enough. I’m running from the pain. I’m so grateful for groups like Within Temptation and Evanescence that bathe the jagged pain in jagged music, coating the sharp edges so that at least they don’t slice so deeply.

I’m running from loneliness. I’m running from myself, from my own lack of fulfillment without you, from my inadequacies.

I’m running to what I hope is a better future. I’m running to the next stage, even as I know I should take my time in this one. And I’m running to the day when I know we’ll be together and in love.

And as a friend recently told me…everything in life is better with love.

All my love from across this bitterly cold night, to wherever you are.

Yours,
Beren

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February 2, 2013 - Posted by | Loneliness, Uncategorized

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