I started this blog at the beginning of the end of my sixteen-year marriage. I have a little girl and a world of fear and hurt. I am starting over. I have never felt so raw and alone, but also so hopeful that I might finally understand what it means to truly feel love and to offer it in return. To my daughter, my friends, members of the opposite sex, myself.
There was a moment when I was first alone in my separation where, after years of being denied affection (sex), all I wanted was someone to make me feel pretty, special, worthy. Once I settled into that feeling a bit and looked at myself in the mirror, studied the lines around my eyes and the lovely shade of suicide gray my skin had become, I realized I did indeed want to fall in love. I need to fall in love.
It’s possible that we spend our entire lives trying to understand what love means. And by that I mean every single thing we do is an effort to understand our purpose in this world and justify our existence here. It looks like we’re paying bills and updating our Facebook profiles and eating lunch and shopping at Target and turning left at the traffic light, but all we’re doing is saying to the world: “Love me. Please, for all things sacred and sweet, just fucking love me.”
Take the journey with me at The Love Project, and let’s see if we can’t uncover what it means to love and be loved. At the very least, let’s have a few laughs trying to figure it out.