We accept the love we think we deserve...

...and there was a while where I didn't think I deserved much.

I don't know if I made the mistake or took the intentional moment to watch chick flicks tonight while sick in bed. I watched Dear John, a personal favorite love story without the perfect ending. It reminded me of a blog my mom had written months ago about love and how she had loved three men in her life.

Leaving Portland was hard for many reasons, one of which was love. I spent the last three years completely and wholly loving someone that would and could never love me back. I think there was a part of me that though if I loved enough for the both of us that it would work out in the end. If I did more, if I was more of what he wanted, that things would change. I spent three years hoping that I could be enough. Mind you, we weren't even dating until the end of it (which very few believe over the years), and everything that had scared me over the years came to fruition.

I knew I had been lied to. I knew that I never got the whole truth.  I liked to close my eyes and act like I was making it up and that I was wrong. I tricked myself into thinking that what I was getting was enough. It wasn't. That relationship shattered my understanding of meaning of trust, love, being faithful and honest. It tore apart the once strong and resilient person my mother had raised me to be and left me small and broken. It's hard to know that I put myself there. That so many times I said, "just one more chance," knowing that it wasn't going to work out, knowing that once again I would call my girlfriend crying over not understanding why my life wasn't working out.

I left Portland, no longer in love but still loving. It's hard to feel like something you dedicated so much time and effort to was ripped out of your hands without any control on your part. Since moving I've thought about it a lot. Well, I thought about it before the move, when I got honest with people about why we broke up and I stopped being afraid that it meant that I wasn't enough and instead being true that I had done my part and he hadn't done his. One of my guy friends had reminded me what I deserved just in being the amazing person that he is and reminded me what it felt like to be loved and cared about without strings. With the move though I got scared. I don't remember how to be vulnerable. The last three years left me as a cold, empty shell of girl, yet desperate for someone to love me. I don't know how to be somewhere new, uncomfortable in my own skin, not knowing how to relate, to find someone that is going to fit into my quirks.

My favorite quote from any book I've ever read is "we accept the love we think we deserve." My problem is that after all this I don't know what I deserve. I've tried to act strong and like I am coming out ahead of this whole thing, when inside I am still broken and grieving, unsure how to move passed having my heart shattered and stomped into the mud. I don't know how to be somewhere new and continue healing... I don't know how to grieve without being able to call my best friend to curl up next to me to watch the chick flicks that will make me cry and eat sweets. I don't know how to do this... hopefully I can learn, but right now, I just don't know how.