St Dwynwen Print
8in x 10in archival matte print of original acrylic painting of St Dwynwen
From "The Monastery" manual:
When I was in the second grade we watched Little Women for the first time on TV. It builds up to where Laurie tells Jo how much he loves her and wants to be with her and she tells him how she could never love him like that, how she wants to stay his friend. I went to the bathroom to cry and pray she would fall in love with him. She doesn’t, just for the record.
I have always, for as long as I can remember I had crushes. And all of a couple of times that person actually “liked” me back. Of course, it never really mattered that much to me until high school, when I started to feel the weight of growing up. I always sort of felt like that was really embarrassing to admit to, even to myself.
I was so caught up in love stories that I started a “Dear Future Husband” journal and read basically every religious book on dating and boys that I could find.
I don’t think I ever really told many of them that I liked them, you know. I went the passive route, which, as I’m sure you can imagine, went great! And by great, I mean that none of them probably knew. I took it as rejection anyway. I guess it wasn’t really as much of being afraid of rejection that I didn’t profess my love, as it was culturally inappropriate for a woman (young woman, in my case) to lead the charge on initiating anything. And so I waited… for all the cues. Or maybe it just felt more romantic to seem uninterested and be sought after.
Maybe I could chalk it up to all of the small schools I went to and their “ponds” in comparison to the sea and all of the fish in it. Well-meaning people told me it’s because I’m intimidating, which I don’t think I ever truly believed or understood, honestly. One thing I do know about myself is that I can be very private and withdrawn until I feel comfortable and even then, depending on the state of my mental health, it can swing one way or the other. Some people call it being “shy”. Maybe it’s personality, or maybe it’s from growing up moving so much.
Being vulnerable in a search for love can feel a little jellyfish like; your throbbing heart, translucent and present, yet can be untouchable. But please, forget me not!