|"I'm Tired of Fighting": A Letter to My Heart|
Before I get too far ahead of myself ... I'm talking to you, heart. I'm tired of fighting with you all the time. I'm tired of being the go-between for you and my head and my soul. The three of you have simply never been able to get along. "The heart wants what the heart wants," you insist, and you say it over and over. But, "Everything within reason," the head argues back. And, "What about me?" whines the soul, the spirit, the part of me that wants to be eternal. You three are at war. And I'm stuck in the middle.
And I'm sick of it.
Now, don't get me wrong. We've had a twenty-seven year relationship, and I'm not about to give it up. I love you, and I'm not just saying that. I really mean it. I love you, heart. You're part of what keeps me alive. And when the stars are shining in a night sky and I look up with wonder and feel something in me swell up ... I know it's you, right there with me, like your finger grip crushing my own trembling palm.
But here's the thing: I've had a twenty-seven year relationship with my head, too. It's seen me through a lot. And let's face it: it's a lot more reliable than you. When people die, if you had your way I'd just fall apart. When things go wrong, too. When a movie makes me so happy and so sad, your answer is to send me into a fit of dehydrating condensation. But my head? She's the reasonable one. She helps me step back from my situations and analyze, and deal, and move on. You? You're not so helpful there.
And my soul ... what do you have to say for yourself, for the way you've dealt with my soul? I know you think he's so restrictive, so prim and proper, but here's the thing: you're thinking of you, and he's thinking of me. You're so ... you're so now. But him? He's forever. Besides, when I worry, or when I'm afraid, my soul doesn't skip beats. He never lays me out on the floor. You've been known to do that from time to time, heart.
But I digress. What I'm really trying to say is: there's a war going on inside me, and you're a big part of it. You've known me all my life ... you had to know this was coming. You had to have seen the signs. This isn't a break up.
It's a truce.
Here's what I need from you: I need you to be flexible. I need you to understand that I love you, and I need you, but I love and need my head and soul, too. I need you three to work together. And I need you to stop taking it so personal when I skip your advice and go with what my head says or my spirit needs. It's nothing personal. It's strictly business. We're partners, heart, and I need you to play as part of the team.
When you don't, it kills me.
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