I stumbled upon two letters in the span of two days.
They were from two different people but ended up relating with one another. After I read the first letter, I was a little perplexed and didn’t really know how to feel about it, so I just let it slowly marinate. Until today.
Today I stumbled upon the 2nd letter. After I read the 2nd letter, I don’t know why, but I burst out into tears. I know this is a little unorthodox of me, even I myself, was surprised. Thoughts came into my head about the letters, about the past, about my role, about who I was, even about why I was crying.
It’s been a while since I really cried. And I don’t let myself cry over silly things, esp. about what people say. I cry about my children or the goodness of the Lord, but not about fights, misunderstandings, gossip, or even when people have disappointed me. When I was younger, I was a very sensitive person. I think I cared too much what people thought about me, went out of my way to please people like my family, people I looked up to, my friends, my church. I look at myself now and know I’m still sensitive but I try so hard not to let people know, and definitely not let it show. You can even see it in the progression of my blogs from early 2000 to now. I don’t know how I developed such thick skin; I don’t even really confide in people. I don’t know how I survived without it being on people’s radar. Probably because people don’t really care too much to observe.
But this 2nd letter gave me clarity on the 1st letter. I’m trying hard already to just type it out.
The 2nd letter made me cry because it reminded me that it’s ok to say things about yourself without it sounding prideful, because it didn’t come from me. And it is this. I just love. I think I love a lot. I think I love too much. I think it’s safe to say that those that know me the most, that know me well enough and close enough could let me say it. I think I give a lot. I think I give too much. I think I like to help people. I think I help too much. It’s there, something that God tucked inside of me. I don’t do it to get applause, but I think I’d supressed it so much in fear that it shouldn’t even be said, because eventually, it’ll be evident.
After letting myself admit it, it took me to the 1st letter.
It made me realize that when I love people, something happens when I make that old love absent. It’s not that I hate them. Along time, I just feel that maybe I don’t need to put so much effort into people who don’t want your love, or those who have hurt you. I don’t know how people’s perception of me goes, but somewhere along knowing me, people think I can’t get hurt. Sometimes the focus becomes one sided and suddently people are thrown into roles, and the victim is never me. Maybe I hide it too well, or maybe I have a great defense mechanism. But through time, that absence doesn’t transform into hate, just unfamiliarity.
So all I know is this. If I’ve loved you, you would have known. And I do love you. I’m sorry if I’ve kept my love absent. Maybe it was a way to keep myself balanced, life happy, peaceful. Maybe it was self preservation and to let things just be. So I’ll leave it at that until we can talk about it.