If you're here from my March post, thank you for taking the time to click and read on, I truly appreciate it.
If you're not from there, I thank you and appreciate you just the same.
Warning: this gets emotional.
This is possibly the tenth time I've rewritten the story for this photo and yet, I still don't know how to begin. Words usually come quite easy to me, especially when I have a 3000 word essay that is due in eight days. But this... this touches on slightly deeper waters.
There are days when I look at myself in the mirror and see a pair of dark brown eyes, a pair of ears with double piercings on each side, a nose that looks like a strawberry more than anything, a pair of chapped lips because of my recurring eczema, a head of hair that is growing lighter and lighter shades of brown each day, and other things.
There are also days when I look at myself in the mirror and see a tired pair of red, puffy eyes from days of crying, a nose, red from the mountain of tissues of mucus that I've been blowing out to make sure I can breathe, a pair of lips that have spoken to, questioned and wondered to God about the thousands of things that have been on my mind, the bedhead look that others use texture sprays to achieve when all I've done is lay in bed for the whole day, not having the motivation to do anything, and other things.
This was one of those days.
To (hopefully, or at least try to) cut a long story short and summarise it into a sentence the best way I can as of now, it has been a season where many different people around me need to receive a lot of love.
So, I give them love.
I give, and give, and give, and give. And even when I feel like I have nothing left to give, I ask God to give them the love that only He can, which is far greater than the kind of love that I can give.
But I still give.
From the little things like catching hold of them and asking them if they liked the place I recommended them to go to for a meal, or asking for updates on the last thing we talked about, fulfilling their cravings and bringing them out for lunch or dinner, remembering that they have their exams next week and wishing them all the best, helping them when they don't find the proper words to use for their assignments, having almost daily conversations over phone calls and asking them how they've been... I give.
Just to be clear, I'm not trying to paint a picture of me being all great and mighty in doing these things and being there for people and loving them, it's just something that I have promised myself to do for others when they need it the most.
Then, one day, I realised something:
I haven't been the receiving end of this love in a long time, or at least I haven't felt like it.
"How've you been?" she asked during CG.
"I've been okay," I replied.
Then I felt a tug in my heart.
"Well...," I began.
And that was all it took.
Over three days (and many days from weeks and months before this) of what seemed like unending tears, physical heartaches and honest conversations with God and the people closest to me, I am reminded that just because people don't give as much as you do, it doesn't mean that they love you any less. It's also not their fault that they don't realise how you haven't been receiving enough love because of the strong front that you put up in efforts to be strong for them, even when you're not.
I am also reminded that I am always the receiving end of love. Love that is far beyond words of affirmation, acts of service, physical touch, quality time and gifts. Love that, not only, has never given up on me, but has given up His own life to bring me back home to Love.
This has been an emotional journey for me in finishing this story, to say the least. I've had to take multiple breaks from writing to wipe away the tears that were blurring my vision and also to recollect my thoughts.
More than anything, I hope that this serves as a reminder to you that you are loved.
You are loved; not only when you are at your best, but you are loved at your very worst, even when you didn't know it.
So, how've you been?
