If my heart is so empty, I hear someone say, why don’t I just replenish it?
The only way I know to replenish a heart is to let down your guard and be immersed in love.
That takes a safe space where you can get naked, drop the filters and love. It takes a space of trust where you know someone else is watching your back, someone else is needing all you can give them in this moment, someone else is dropping suspending judgment of you to embrace who you show yourself to be.
Business dealings are not about love. Social graces are not about love. Everyday chatter is not about love.
Social justice spaces are not about love. Political spaces are not about love. Internet spaces are not about love.
To give and receive love, first we have to be able to know ourselves as lovable.
I know that my mother in the sky loves me. Of that I am sure. And that love helped me be grateful and serene as I took care of my parents in their last decade.
Other people? Well, that I doubt. “Jesus loves you, but everybody else thinks you are an asshole.” Love feels very risky.
And finding safe space where love can touch me? Beyond the imagination of an old, decrepit tranny femme who time and time again has told by her family and her community that she is way too smart and idiosyncratic to be lovable.
Gotta go. The ceiling is dripping on the bed again.