Wounded Birds

Lately I find myself as incapable of expressing my thoughts in writing as I do verbally, but I will try anyway.

You are so earnest. Just like your name. I can see in your actions and emotions the rash confidence of youth. You’ve felt the pain of unrequited love, but not yet the pain of love lost. You are convinced in the rightness of your actions, and swept away in the tide of your own love for this woman.

I know you. I know you are sincere. I know you are convicted. I know how desperately you want her to simply believe that you love her, and to accept that in the deepest parts of her soul. I think I only partly understand why you hide her from your family. Perhaps from a desire to not invite any of us into what the two of you share, I understand that. Perhaps from a fear that you would then have to deal with all of our opinions or judgments or feelings about your relationship (although really, aren’t you dealing with that already?).  The part of me that doesn’t understand is the part that knows how much you want her to be your wife someday, yet you know how many obstacles you both need to overcome first and I think your family would be a great resource, as well as support, to both of you.  Maybe you have entirely different reasons and see things from a very different angle.

I know in my heart that she is drowning in this torrent of love you are cascading down on her, like a pounding waterfall. She has so many obstacles to overcome. I am not encouraging you to abandon her and wait until she is “ready” even though I don’t believe that she is, yet. I am encouraging you to spend more time searching out what she needs, rather than convincing her you love her. Maybe right now she doesn’t need you to write her a letter a day, to call every day, to text every day, to tell her that you love her every day. Maybe she doesn’t need a raging river, maybe she needs a nice calm stream that she can just float on, for awhile, until the rest of her life calms down and she learns how to swim on her own.

I see in your actions that you are consumed with the nobility of the ideal of love. The feeling of it. The awe of it. Being in love makes you feel like you can transcend the problems of this life, tackle anything, accomplish anything, conquer the world. That is such an addictive feeling. I know, because that’s how I feel when I’m in love. Like the two of us together are an insurmountable mountain of awesome sauce and we OWN it, together we are unstoppable.  A woman without a voice though will never be a part of that. She must first learn to love and accept herself. She must learn to have boundaries, she must learn to be true to herself. Until then you are a solitary mountain and you will probably scare the wits out of her. The thing about rescuing wounded birds, is that they either try to peck your eye out or fly away.

Pay attention to what boundaries you are crossing. It doesn’t matter how many times you ask her if what you are saying or doing is ok with her. You have to be the bigger person, you will have to respect boundaries that she might not actually have yet because you must be wise enough to see that she needs them. If you want to help her heal herself, then help her by honoring and respecting those invisible lines.

I know you can do it, because you love her just that much.


2 responses to “Wounded Birds

  1. You are very welcome! What part did you think was universal? (I think I agree with you, but of course I’m curious about specifics :))

  2. I was drawn in by the title, and found myself reading something personal yet universal. It happened to resonated on many levels within me, thank you.

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