Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth;…
To me, loving someone means always being ready to drop everything you're doing and doing what your beloved needs you to do, not complaining or putting conditions on the things you do. I realize this is simplistic, but because I love this way, I can only consider it love if it IS this way. Convenience has nothing to do with loving. Babies don't generally set a clock to make sure they don't wake up their parents. When they're hungry or wet or teething, that's all that matters. Someone is going to hear about it and had darned well better be ready to alter the situation to the infant's liking. If a child is going to throw up, it's not going to be on Sunday at 2 pm sharp - it's going to be whenever is the least convenient for everyone around him. If a tire is going to go flat, odds are good it'll be in the middle of the night in a sleet storm. Why? Just because that's reality.
"I know you're starving/homeless/sad/overwhelmingly lonely/sick, but I'm busy/this isn't a good time for me" translates to one thing to me, and that is "I am incapable of loving you or anyone else unselfishly, because my wants/needs/comfort are much more important than yours.You put your life on hold to make sure I was okay, but this isn't a good time for me to listen to your troubles, and certainly not a good time for me to deal with them. They don't directly affect me, so I really don't want to discuss them. You've survived this way for fifty years, and by now you've surely learned not to complain. It's okay for ME to complain, but your issues are insignificant and can, therefore, wait indefinitely." And they WILL wait indefinitely,.
The only people I've ever known who loved the way I love, putting others before themselves, got taken advantage of, and rarely complained about it. Yes, they were very good, loving people, but what did it gain them? They're dead.
I am fifty years old and I sleep alone, except for my pets. I have worked hard and tried my level best to put others first, and it's paying off by, oh, wait, NOTHING. I haven't historically rocked the boat, so if I am upset, it's no big thing. Anyone close enough to me to upset me also knows I'm terrified that complaining will get me chastised and ignored, at best. Pain? I can live without it. Comparison? No thank you. Being told I'll suffice (barely)? It's not really cutting it for me anymore. "I don't mind that you're fat/ fifty/broken/talk because people rarely allow you to talk, much less listen to you/ need desperately to be held and comforted. You are EXACTLY right for me, and I thank God you exist." These are things I have never heard and don't foresee ever hearing, and it hurts.
Will I ever sleep again in the same bed with a man who calls me foul words then blames me for "causing" him to do so? No, I won't. Will I ever willingly pass the time of day or night missing someone who doesn't miss me? No, I won't. Will I always feel guilty when I no longer care? No, I don't think so. For now, sure. I'll grieve for what might have been, but I'll be damned if I'm going to keep making excuses for other people's selfishness and egocentricity.
I feel anger and pain and I ache not knowing why I am not enough. For some people, the world stops at their pleasure, trembles at their displeasure, and spins because it pleases them. For me? No. No-one's world even slows down for a moment. My usefulness must always far outweigh the inconvenient fact that I'm human. Apparently, it will always be okay for others to put my wants, my dreams, my happiness, and my life on hold in order to see to their own.
So how about I don't pencil you in for sometime that's good for you?
