Posted on | January 9, 2014 | No Comments
One of my friends was telling me about a guy she knows who is in the process of buying a ring for his girlfriend. She isn’t a fan of the girl and was talking about how all he sees is what she looks like and not who she really is. At one point I commented that “love is blind” and she laughed and said “not THAT blind” because apparently, the girlfriend is gorgeous on top of also being crazy as a loon and kind of nasty to be around.
It got me thinking though, about the whole “love is blind” theory that so many of us hear throughout our lives. Is it really blind? Do we really fall so head over heels that we can’t see the negative in the people around us? I started to think about my ex-husband and the things I pushed aside to embrace our relationship and it almost started to ring true, that feeling of blind love… blind adoration… blind acceptance. Maybe love is blind… maybe it’s the blinding of ourselves to the reality of someone else in order to believe the myth we have created. Maybe to be truly in love, one has to be blind… unseeing, unappreciative of the real person before them.
But then no. No, I can not believe that love is blind. I can not believe that we search our whole lives for someone who will blind us to their imperfections and render us sightless to the world we’ve finally found. How depressing. How very sad to think that you wander around waiting to be sightless. But infatuation? Yes… that, I believe, is blind. Infatuation is blind and deaf and often mute and it is a heavy wool scarf of emotion that drapes around you with a sense that it is the everything you’ve been looking for… the everything that Disney promised you in a rush of strings and percussion. Infatuation is what pushes you into tattoos and skinny dipping and 4am phone calls only to say goodnight again and giggle at how stupid it is that you just needed to hear his voice… just one more time.
Infatuation is so very blind.
But love? No. I can not believe that love is blind. Not anymore. Not now that I have love wrapped around my neck, strung with pink and red beads. In fact, I think love is the complete opposite of blind. I think love is all-seeing. Love is that moment when your eyes adjust to the light in a dark room and suddenly everything bursts into shapes and designs and creations that were, just a moment before, shrouded in black. Love is the instant when the sun hits the horizon and the world before you blossoms into pinks and golds.
Love is most definitely not blind.
As I write this, I finger the necklace around my throat… the soft pink string, the mis-matched beads, and I realize, not for the first time, how great a love I have for my son. I love him not with blindness but with heart-wrenching sight. I see where he struggles, I see the problems he may have in the future… the things that may trip him up or strip him bare. I see the nuances and scabs and scars of his heart and I worry oh so much about his life stretching out before him… worry about who will hurt him, who he will hurt. I love him completely BECAUSE I see him, not because I am blind to him. I see every inch of his soul, every curve of his heart, every tug of his skin and I love every, stinking, ounce of him… even the not so perfect parts. Because that’s what love is. That’s what real love is.
That’s what I strive for… what I yearn for… what I believe in with all my heart. A love that opens it’s eyes wide and takes in every imperfection alongside my strengths. A love that says “That? I can live with that” even when I think he can’t. That’s what real love is. That’s what we all, deep down, really deserve.