(photo found here:
https://sueellenwelfonderauthor.wordpress.com/tag/vikings/page/2/)
I am trying to take a break from Facebook for a while,
but I can’t quite bring myself to shut off the Messenger App just yet … One
morning, after I had my morning conversation with God, I grabbed my phone to
see what I had missed while I was sleeping.
Why do I do this? Partially due
to a habit born several years ago, when I was struggling to come to terms with
the end of one of several chapters of my life, partially because I know some of
my friends send me stupid shit when they can’t sleep and it gives me something
to giggle about as I begin my day.
A picture of eyes greeted me that morning … and not just
any eyes. These eyes instantly
captivated me. Before I had time to ponder
who the artist & model were or what lighting may have been used to create
that shade of blue I became acutely aware that I had seen that intensity
before. The intense color seemed familiar
to me, so too was the intense ‘look’. The
eyes that had pierced through every carefully crafted facade I had in my
massive arsenal, intent on knowing me. I
could not hide from that gaze, no matter how hard I tried … he knew me. Those eyes had seen the horrors of war, they
had known countless sleepless nights. They had known great love and great loss. Those eyes, so intent on knowing me, hid
demons that would eventually become too strong for him to fight. He often talked of Vikings and I grew to
associate his eyes with Odin. Those eyes
forever closed 4 years ago, so while my brain knew that the eyes in the message
could not be the Viking’s eyes, my heart briefly entertained the possibility. I have been struggling with this for years,
why my heart keeps going back to what once was when I KNOW it is impossible to
go back now … tonight the “why” finally occurred to me. I yearn to be known like that again, to be
forced to be my authentic self because anything less would be unacceptable.
I am still drawn to the intensity of the image … another “why”
path presents itself to me. While in my
late teens, every time a relationship would end and I moped around for what
likely seemed like an eternity, my mom would bring up the fact that I am
intense. For years I assumed this was a
bad thing that I needed to change about myself … and I tried … to no
avail.
- I wear my heart on my sleeve and am open, honest and sincere.
- I care deeply or I don’t care at all.
- If I enter an argument, I am intent on winning said argument (not to be confused with aggression).
- I can be moody, like hot & cold water – one day all I want to do is talk to you and then next day I don’t want to talk at all.
- I am incredibly bad at small talk, preferring deep and meaningful conversations … don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a little light banter and flirting, but I honestly would rather talk about something that means something to you, or to me … better yet, to both of us!
- I tend to use rather strong language and speak with conviction … I mean, why say “You hurt my feelings” when I could say “Why would you crush my heart like that you incomprehensible Neanderthal?”
- I can meditate on my thoughts for HOURS …
- Sure, there are downsides to being an intense person … others tend to view me a clingy or needy and this is something that I have slowly, like at a snail’s pace, mitigated a bit. What it really boils down to is that I am emotionally expressive, sometimes incredibly so. I am no longer looking to the other person to fill that emotional need (well, for the most part, I mean sometimes I just desperately need to be held and allowed to cry, but I digress).
- And, possibly the most entertaining of all, I tend to bond with fictional characters. Case in point, recently I watched the movie “Finding Forrester” and at the end of the movie I cried when Jamal found out that William had died. Yes, I cried because a character in a movie died. (This also ties back to being an empath, which I wrote about in my last blog entry.)
All of this can make me seem downright intimidating … the
Viking knew me and seemed to instinctively know how to ‘handle’ me … and the
circle continues … I yearn to be known like that again.
Thank you, my darling insomnia suffering friend, for
sending the captivating eyes that held more meaning for me than you could have
possibly imagined.
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