Love is a Lie

Photo by Jane P

This is me. I'm normally happy, optimistic, glass-half-full. However, lately, I felt that part of me sucked away. For those of you who have seen the new Disney film Inside Out, I felt like Riley when she started not feeling so happy anymore; I felt like there wasn't any reason for me to feel like this feeling, especially since I never feel a constant gloom. I knew and still know that I really do not like my job, but that's not a reason to constantly feel sad. I feel completely crushed that I cannot afford school this fall, but I know I'm going to school in January. Sure, I lost a friend or two a little bit ago, but I know things will be okay. I have a habit of bouncing back.  I have always known I'm resilient, but during this time, I thought I was only doing it out of plain habit. For some reason, I wasn't bouncing. I was staying firm on the ground.

Two days ago I had created this post. It was a post that stated something I had never believed, something I knew to be false; however, over the last few weeks something must have snapped because I convinced myself it was true. I had convinced myself that love was a myth. With the world having so much evil in it, how could a silly concept like love exist? I had convinced myself that marriage was a legend and good dates were a bed time story we would read to children to keep them optimistic for just a little longer. Honestly, having approximately 7 billion people on the earth, what is the honest likelihood that everyone will find "their person?" I was 87% sure that everyone bought their way into getting married and 76% certain that everyone with a good date was deluding themselves. I created little reasons why this thought process was logical. 

I was wrong. So very wrong.

If there is anything I believe in, I believe in love. I am constantly in love with love. Love is something that pushes me forward, keeps me hoping, helps me to forgive, and keeps me strong. Aside from my complete faith in the gospel of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, it truly is one of the few concepts that I can't not believe in.

So what snapped? What happened that would create such a break in who I am? I believe it had something to do with being happy. It can be seen in Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs that in order to achieve that happy feeling, that peace, one must first achieve physiological needs: food, sleep, breathing, etc. The next level is with regards to safety. Due to the last few week's events, I haven't felt safe. I have been getting whiplash trying to look over my shoulder. It wasn't with therapy that I achieved a sense of safety again. It wasn't with the repeating phrase, "he isn't here; I'm safe." I found my safety in the temple.

It is a running joke of mine that in the case of a natural disaster or a zombie apocalypse, the place I will go for safety is the temple. Prior to attending, I beckoned to my friends on the social media without a single bite; I had almost resolved to stay home. That resolve was not absolute because I went. As I sat in the baptistry, I realized that I wasn't scanning everyone's faces to guarantee that they weren't going to hurt me. I didn't feel the weight leaving my shoulders; it took nearly 45 minutes to realize that the suffocating weight was gone. Logically, I should have been scared to leave the temple. Why would I want to leave the place that has provided more safety than I have known in quite some time? As I left the House of the Lord, there was a sense of promise in the air that said, "There's more where this came from." The peace stayed as I went to my car and I spent the rest day doing things I love: spending time with Alexa, having my makeup done by my Macy's people, and finally attending a reception for my roommate; all of which cannot exist without love. Love is a fact.

Finally, joy came home.