Til Death Do Us Part...

I have made vows to a beloved twice in my short life.  The first time, they were the standard, by the book vows.  The second time, they were modified in accordance with our Reverend's personal style and with our input, and they were beautiful.  I don't have any regrets about the promises I that I made to myself or to the men I loved.  But one thing lays heavy on my heart and mind lately and that is that I never promised either of them that I would be perfect.  How could I?  How could anyone?

The thing is, I am a bigger critic of my flaws than anyone.  And I make mistakes.  Big ones.  Alcohol induced tirades and stress triggered breakdowns are my specialties.  They are two of the things that I am the best at in the whole world.  I'm not proud of this.  But this is my truth.  If I could make a career out of alienating the people who care about me, I could live forever wealthy.  I have fought hard against forgiveness in moments when I felt that deserved to be punished.  Those moments are plentiful.  But, every now and again, I have notions that I do deserve to be loved, completely and unconditionally.  I think about the vows I made.  I look for implied promises for perfection and I find none.  And I wonder if all of my wishing for punishment and reprimand has come irreversibly true and I wonder... is this all there is?

I've been trying really hard lately to focus on myself and to take care of what I need to take care of, regardless of who might be around me.  I try to think about things in a different way, so as not to place any expectations on others and therefore breed disappointment when what I think should have happened, doesn't happen.  But I want more.  I try to be better every day and sometimes I fail.   I don't even want to be perfect.  I don't want to be a simple and convenient accessory.  I want to be a treasure.