Have you ever felt rejected by someone you love (mother, father, lover, friend)?
While attempting to find understanding you ask yourself, why? (which draws further confusion and anguish because your question is answered with an exasperated version of facts that would deem anyone insane for not reciprocating love.) After all; you…are…wonderful! You keep record of all the things you have done in spite of your own gain (or at least that’s what you tell yourself, ignoring how good you feel when you serve others).
When it comes to lovers, it seems the void of being denied the feeling of love cuts deeper. If you have never felt the suffering of unrequited love, you are both blessed and cursed. You are blessed because you have not experienced the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach that robs you of your sleep (along with all good sense); and cursed because when you love that much; you feel every cell in your body take shape into a magnetic field of pure bliss, and although the feeling of love reciprocated may be absent, the seed left behind gives life to a new form. You may express the agonizing metamorphosis through your work, create an exquisite piece of art, a painting, a sculpture, if you’re like me, write a new song, or simply (perhaps not so simply) create a new you.
I laugh as I remember; as young woman I would pray (and I mean really pray) down on my knees accompanied by a dramatic tearful plea and some form of physical gesture that seemed apropos for live theater, “God, please, please, tear him out of my heart. I don’t want to love him. Please God, take this pain away.” And then, I would cry for the next hour hoping he would call. As I got older, I stopped praying and instead insulted myself while questioning what was wrong with me, and how at my age, I could indulge in such obsessive adolescent behavior?
While I was imploring (either by prayer or insult) to have the pain removed, (and not being clear about what I really wanted which was to feel reciprocated, loved, honored, and valued) it never occurred to me to look inward. I was sad, upset and even angry because I felt unappreciated and taken for granted, yet, the rejection (or my interpretation of rejection) was simply a reflection of my inner value.
I know this to be true because I never did for myself all of the things that I wanted someone else to do for me. Think about it. When was the last time you did something nice for yourself or bought yourself something? How often do you spend time with you? When was the last time you treated yourself to a nice dinner or better yet, take the time to make your favorite dish?
Do you pause throughout the day to say to yourself, “I love you. You look great. I appreciate you. I value you. I love you just the way you are?” Hay House publisher, author, teacher, and lady extraordinaire, Louse Hay, encourages us to look at ourselves in the mirror and say, “I love you. I really love you.” The first time I tried this, I laughed. I felt strange looking in the mirror as I spoke these words. The second time I cried. Looking into my eyes, and saying, “I love you,” felt like the resolution to a life long quest.
There is no worse sense of abandonment then abandoning yourself. I spent years silencing my voice, turned my back on myself, attempted to pacify my inner calling by wearing my mom suit, (padding it firmly with excess weight) my savior hat, self-neglect, and yet, I wondered why the mirrors of un-appreciation surrounded me (deep breath).
I find that I don’t get what I really want because I don’t ask for it. I’m dishonest with myself. The answer to the question, “What would you like?” is compromised because I am not thinking of what I want but rather of the variables which include what everyone else wants. Something as simple as cooking a meal for myself will not be formulated if someone else will not be joining me. When it comes to my family, I will walk to the market, buy fresh ingredients, make all of the preparations, cook for hours, stay in the kitchen to ensure everyone else is being served, clean up afterward, and then sit down with a lukewarm plate, yet, I won’t take the time to prepare for myself a favorite dish.
I’ve been craving Chilaquiles for months, and I would not make them “just for me” because “they’re a lot of work.” But today, I placed my order, “Chilaquiles for one please.” I drove to the grocery story, bought the Chile de Arbol with the stems, roasted the peppers, tomatoes, peeled the garlic, the onion, blended the salsa, cut the tortillas, fried them (and was vigilant to ensure they didn’t burn) poured the spicy salsa on top, allowed it to simmer, added cheese served it on my favorite white glass plate, spooned over a dollop of sour cream, sprinkled some salt and smiled.
I was the host, the chef and the guest to this lovely meal. I brewed a fresh cup of coffee, sat in front of the coffee table, said grace and turned on Netflix to watch an episode of Secrets of the Bible/The Holy Grail.
It was interesting being the observer of my late breakfast, and watching me smile after I took the first bite. I was having communion with myself; it was a holy experience, and just like that, with each bite, I felt whole, loved, appreciated.
I have found that the more I get to know me, the more I know God. The more I sit in silence, the more I hear Spirit’s voice. As Deepak Chopra said, “Prayer is you’re speaking to God, meditation is allowing The Spirit to speak to you, but it speaks in silence.” The more I allow Source to lead me, the more fulfilled I am. The more I live as my authentic self, the more my life experience reflects the divine.
You will be amazed when you make life about you, you and nothing but you (regardless of whether or not it feels good). The rejection of a lover, parent, or friend might be love reaching for you letting you know, that You are waiting to be loved by You. Pay attention. Love is calling. You may hear love’s voice in a song; see it in your eyes, or if you’re like me, on one fine Sunday morning, you just might taste love in a flavorful dish of Chilaquiles.