Critic's Advocate

I really loved the person I became when I was with you. Every time I look at my red "ACE" brand gardening shears; I am warmed to the core with your thoughtfulness. You encouraged my interest in everything that I loved. You were always thinking of me. Yes, I took it for granted. I know that I must have appreciated it back then but not as much as I do now. Because lately, I've been realizing how much that person is still a part of me today and how much I have transformed into myself a little bit more because of you. In the most amazing ways and out of the dark days too. I did not know how to accept your love. It was big. It was grand ! It made me fear the performance of it all. Was it all just a big show? I used to think, "He's only telling me this because he wants me to assure him that I love him back." I could never just say it when I wanted to; he demanded it and I rejected it. I demanded it too; with my criticism and self-hating flare. Is love not a mutual feeling? And the actions we take part in together; say more about what we do than what we are actually SAYING, which is "I love you", "I love you too." What an amazing feeling to feel love; rather than shown love. What are those but empty promises? I have realized that I do not know how to feel love for another without externally giving them something. How do you fully appreciate a human being without putting on a big show doused with all the tricks and treats?  How do you care for someone? My mind skips to my relationship with my daughter, now 17 months old. How is she feeling the love from the people that are around her? Are they allowing her to be upset; make mistakes, explore her world confidently and live with it? Especially from me and her Father; her true equals. Is my attention with her? Yes, I am present with Winslow. I often seek an independence of the Self. My freedom is colored in the ability to never be at another's will but to live out of my own wilingness and acceptance of my emotions. The choice to love the anger, sadness, frustration, and confusion. I am free to choose me in all my glory. To choose my freedom from the critics in my head that bind me. That is, if I feel like eating something or if I want to sit and do nothing, I will enjoy it. I will not keep the guilt inside of me; to later grow into disease. I strive to be amongst each other;  not asking for love, not seeking love, not acting in any which way as to gain the gaze of admiring eyes.  I am with her and she is with me. And we learn from each other. I go in and out. I have been running away in fear because of it. How am I supposed to care for another human being when I am "unprepared", meaning; I don't quite think I've got my life figured out just yet. I need to be more responsible; emotionally, mentally, and physically. Yet, what if I already am? I just have no time to express it because I am lost in fear of losing it all. My attention is elsewhere and it's not any where near where it needs to be, truly. Trying to find the love of my masculinity that was never developed emotionally. I repressed. What am I trying to say? I suck at loving. Yes, but aren't we all just sucking a little bit? At love. Love is the expression of life itself. My love for the mountains in the distance is the same love I feel when I look at your face. I feel at home. Grounded. I don't feel proud to be by your side; as if you were some trophy and that was the only thing I liked about you. I liked what you did, so I put you on my side and said, "Hey, look at my ride!!", I mean; boyfriend/girlfriend, son/daughter, significant other. Why'd you do that with me? I must have done the same with you. Did you ever just admire the way I was? It was hard for me to do this with you because I was too busy criticizing, pointing fingers and not ever looking at what I was to do. You reminded me of everything that I hated about myself. I just didn't know it at the time. The mirror was dirty and I let it go for so long; that I eventually just had to break it. In retrospect, I really do miss so many moments with you; glimpses of eternal beings. That's the person I liked when I was with you and coincidentally; I loved you too. We saw sparks of great dreams and adventures. Building a home together, having a family, sitting by the fire, being simple folk, really. We let our projections take the best of us. Well, now that the ashes have settled; I'm trying to be the person that I felt a glimpse of then. I give the credit to you, but really it was all me. For some reason, you just gave me that assurance and ecouragement that I could just be. You hardly ever had to say anything. You just knew my capabilities as I did with you and we thrived. We loved and we soared. But did we just get too high? The pressure so tense; ready to bust it all into a billion pieces. Little red tiny pieces of plastic in my heart. We depended on each other for that feeling; of being complete. To love isn't to boast and brag about what you have physically and show it off like some trophy. To love is to feel our presence and know that it's birthright is joy in living amongst each other. I,pledge to honor my independence of another's feelings, I can not make you feel any which way. That is your responsibility to take ownership of your own emotions. I am here to let you know that I still love you, even when you are upset. To love is to know that I don't have to tell anyone what they should be doing with their life. My mind often reverts to all the times Winslow is told no and not to do something. Here, do this ! No, do that ! I must remind myself and others to just let her be. Because guess what, she probably knows just as much as you do, if not more. Because do I even really know what I am doing? No. It's actually more dreadful to live in drama then it is to live in love. There is broken bones, blood, pain, hatred. Love is the wind touching your face and your hair. Love is the way your eyes shine and the way your soft skin feels with mine. Love is trust. My mind races to Winslow noticing the wind and absolutely loving it running through her hair and touching her face. I didn't tell her it was cold and that she had to get a jacket on. I didn't fill her mind with opinions on what she was feeling. She just felt it; that's love. Love is the expression of laughter in relativity. Love is the way Winslow does what she wants to do; regardless of anyone's opinion or critiscism. Criticizing is the farthest from love. The word itself is harsh and zig-zagged. Similar to one taking a knife and slashing you with it several times. I have done it for so long until I had Winslow. But like I said, I go in and out. She leads the way. She is the expression of pure love when left to herself. What I'm trying to say is; existing amongst each other is easier when you just let each other be without the need to critique.