It’s a bustling Monday morning here at the office. Tons of projects lined up for the week, some leftover work from last Friday still uncompleted…so naturally, my coworkers and I have been discussing a very important topic…
My fellow communications intern mentioned how she had watched an episode last night where LC confessed that Jason was the only person she let completely in, and he broke her heart. In between questions and comments about the outgoing career e-newsletter, she said something in reference to the characters that struck a chord. Why is it that guys have to treat one girl horribly before they can be good to their next girlfriend? And then the first girl, in turn, treats the next guy she is with just as badly because she’s used to being hurt. So basically, the person who deserves to be miserable…gets to live happily ever after, while the people who should be happy have to deal with the aftermath.
I admit that The Hills is not the most brilliant piece of television on the air to date, but it’s always interesting to see the universal themes that people are able to interpret from the series and apply to their own lives. That universality is what I love about my coworkers. Even though we’re often all about business, and don’t know that much about each other’s personal lives…there will be times like today, when someone says something that seems so meaningful to your life…despite the fact that they had made the comment in reference to their own situation. All three of us girls in the office today just sort of acknowledged the truth in this theoretical statement, not knowing each other’s individual stories (or wanting to ask), but finding comfort that we’re not alone in our plight.
I felt like she was reading my mind, as last night I had just written this:
“This is all too familiar. I thought I had forgiven you. I thought you were done hurting me, and that I was finally impervious to this reminiscent pain. But I haven’t, and I’m not. In fact, I almost hate you. I hate that I can’t let my guard down for one day before I feel that unbearable sense of deja vous, and lose it. Damn you for always trivializing my insecurity and pointing the finger of blame at me, so that I don’t know how to stop looking towards myself for fault. If only you hadn’t been so deceitful, I would not have become so adept at uncovering everything that is better left hidden. You treated me like I was so stupid that I was forced to become wiser…even though it destroyed the veil of blissful ignorance shrouding my heart. I thought I was ready to believe again, but ironically, it is because of my inability to forget how you hurt me that I can’t remember how to trust.”
I wrote that previous blog last night at Argo Tea (while using their free wireless), but decided to change the status to private, because I realized how pathetically melodramatic my entries on here have been. I’m reposting it now, but with a different purpose than originally intended. The conversation with my coworkers today made me realize that if you are going through some sort of pain or conflict, you can almost guarantee that someone somewhere else in the world is feeling something that mirrors yours. In case there is someone who stumbles across my site who might empathize with my experiences…I want you to take something from what I learned yesterday. Despite the gloomy, depressing tone of my mood and blog entry–and the conclusion where I was just about ready to give up… you have to remember that it’s not the end. Just like my story did not end when I clicked “publish” and saved the post. Life happens. You have to let go and let people in.
LC fans, don’t dismay. Even though Jason broke her heart and is now engaged to some new girl who is completely oblivious to the pain he is capable of causing or just plain doesn’t care, once LC lets go and decides once and for all not to give him the power to let him hurt her anymore, she’ll find someone who will talk her down from the ledge. Someone listens patiently even if it takes awhile to communicate what is wrong, because someone in her past used to hold her words against her. Someone whose unwavering faith helps her heal little by little. Someone who doesn’t chastise her for being imperfect or unreasonable, because he understands the trials that have motivated her behavior–and in seeing something beyond the defense mechanisms or emotional barriers, is willing to wait for that sparkle of hope to appear in her eyes. In fact, if you look close enough, the glimmer could be resurfacing at this very moment.