I have bad memories from childhood of music by Chopin. Lately I’ve been listening to a few pieces by Chopin though and I’m starting to be able to see it from a different vantage point.

…When I was 17 I decided no one was likely to ever fall in love with me. I just had a sense of being trapped in a nightmare of the soul… Not because I was “different” necessarily but because I was never fully allowed to be myself. I think I associated Chopin with that repressed, cloistered existence… It’s passionate undulating beauty mocked me. As if saying, “This beauty belongs to everyone else. But never to you!”

Chanel No. 22 was a breath of fresh air and then it wasn’t. However, I think Casablanca Lily will be impossible. Even if the most hateful people bought eighteen bottles, displayed them in grand lighting and then filmed it on TikTok with opera by Puccini in the background it wouldn’t matter. It will never mean the same thing to them as it does to me. Why? Because they will never be me. The real me… You can impersonate someone’s quirks, taste and public persona but you can’t imitate their actual soul. Not even demons do it perfectly…

And I can be loved. Actually loved.

But actually, it astounds me that someone could fall in love with me. Genuinely. Not just partially. Not just in half. Not just me loving them. But entirely. My entire being. Not what they want. Not what I do to make them happy. Not just because they’re kind. But because they fully want to and can’t help it. I can’t fully wrap my mind around it, but I’m trying to grasp the concept.

I do love unconditionally. I’m not sure why. Ha! Because I wasn’t truly loved unconditionally growing-up and counselors often seem to think childhood trauma always has to create the same wounds in everyone. I thought I was… Maybe that’s why. But regardless, I just do.

I told my ex-husband the other day that I highly suspect a ghost may have tripped me down the stairs this fall. Ha! He…would never do that sort of thing, but…he’s compassionate and empathetic in some unusual ways (although not often in common ways, ironically) and he said he understood. The idea, by the way. Not me specifically… …But I don’t easily understand how ghosts could be allowed to haunt me and furthermore why I can now sense their presence so often to such a great degree. And I’m exhausted by the trite “Christian” responses… Or even the trite secular and “New Age” responses… No, it can’t be entirely insanity if it is at all. No, I pray about it daily. No, I don’t think these are genderless, wandering spirits looking for “the light.” Actually…*laughing* when it first started I tried telling them to go to the light and then praying that they would and it didn’t work. They may have even started teasing me about it eventually…

But…as I’d said before…I think I have a soulmate who has been watching me, possibly praying for me and caring since my mid 20’s in love with me. And I think I have another who is angry. And…I get the sense that I need to wrap my mind around the concept that these dead men may actually have real feelings for me no living man likely ever has? At least, I doubt it. I suppose it’s possible. But…it’s not a flimsy sort of lust or even lovely affection if they’re real beings God allows around me.

I keep writing about it because I’m so perplexed.

But, even if I’m not insane to sense them…even if I’m not being evil…how absurd is it for a human to genuinely believe that no one would or could fall in love with them? Ever. And as non-maliciously to myself and others as possible, I think I’ve had that prevailing presumption. It’s illogical in truth as it would be for anyone else but…based on some evidence I was given in my youth I came to that conclusion. *laugh* I doubt I’ve ever broken anyone’s heart too much if at all…but…I also wonder what I’ve missed seeing. Etc. And no, I’m not stupid. We all genuinely have blind spots… We can’t see everything yet. Sometimes I look at my kids and think, “Golly they’re great!” and then I recognize myself in them and it cements my shock and bewilderment that I have/had such absurd beliefs. Because if I can see the amazingness of my kids why couldn’t someone see those same traits in me and love me romantically? I can easily imagine people romantically loving my kids when they grow older. Why not me?

Well…it didn’t help that the disgusting response from an ex when I told him about it in a moment of clarity as we broke-up was, “I pity you!” …No. Living men have either not loved me all that much romantically or been really vile. …But…those are the ones I’ve knowingly, definitely had real relationships with. The few dates I went on with two others…the flirts…the stares… Who knows. I certainly don’t.