“In love as in medicine: first, do no harm.” (Source: Thought Catalog)
I have not stopped thinking about the above quote since reading it earlier. If I could have this tattooed down the back of my arm, I would. Talk about wearing my heart on my sleeve.
I got called a tough girl at my gym tonight as I reset for a third attempt on a 95lb. hang squat clean & jerk. I finally got under the bar properly, with “no fear” as my coach said. I got the bar overhead, and then brought it back down, tired, spent, but accomplished. I could have given up, walked away, went home for the night without hitting that lift, but something caused me to think, “No, just one more shot.” And my tired, slightly defeated self wrapped her hands around the bar and gave it her all.
I’m waiting for a time when other parts of my life come together like that. I’m waiting for the time when all those lonesome moments, all those hours spent wondering if I’m being deceived, all those disappointments and broken dreams don’t matter anymore because someone thought, “This woman is like no other I’ve ever met,” and he is man enough to do right by me. Passing up meaningless dates with unremarkable women–no matter how good their hair is or the way they put on their lip gloss–will be so simple, even he’ll wonder what’s wrong with him.
How many times have I picked myself up from the ashes of a train-wreck relationship and said, “Just one more try.” Something keeps me going. Something tells me that I’ll eventually get it right, that he’ll* eventually get it right, and that the universe will eventually let us both get it right.
But it’s hard. No one said it would be easy. And I guess I never asked for a fast pass through all of this.
In the meantime, can we all agree on no more harm done to me? Can we make sure that men with whom I am involved don’t have the capacity to manipulate or to deceive or to break my trust the way too many have in the past? Can we aim for no more train wrecks? Because that all sounds nice.
Let’s shake on that, universe.