Those Two Little Words...

Sometimes, you just really need to hear those two words.  The two words that make everything okay again.  The words that strengthen the bond you already have with someone.  The two words that take a mere friendship and turn it into a deeply connected, valuable, important life-connection with another person.

Sometimes, without those two words, even the most intimate interactions feel distant and surreal.  A hug feels artificial, a kiss feels contrived.  Kind words spoken in absence of the two missing words are harder to absorb, difficult to believe.  

No matter how hard I try to connect, the absence of those two words create a force field of rejection that can't be overcome.  Not the presence of something, but the very gaping hole of something's existence creates a wall that seemingly cannot be overcome by even the most passionate and loving efforts of the person who will never hear those two words.  

Maybe it isn't so important that I hear them though.  Maybe it is just that they need to be expressed, they need to be felt, and the vulnerability that comes with saying them needs to be addressed by the person who finds them so hard to say.   Maybe it is just that in the confession of them, in the acceptance of the meaning behind those two words, two people can find their way back to fellowship with one another--walls broken down, true affection, once dammed up by fear, hurt anger, allowed to freely flow again.

But they are two of the hardest words to say because we fear what they tell us about ourselves.  We are loathe to admit our flaws.  We fear that if we acknowledge our imperfections, if we own up to what we regret, we may never find favor again with ourselves or with anyone else.

  It can't be my fault that I said things I didn't mean, can it?  After all, I was provoked.  I was angry. I was hurt.  If I can somehow make this about someone else's shortcomings, I can keep my defenses securely in place.  No one can get to me, as long as I stay above reproach.

But the moment I utter those words, I open myself up for judgment.  I open myself up to another, put myself at his mercy, feeling as though my worth is determinate of his forgiveness.  If I say those words, I put myself in a position that gives him power over me.  I lose control of the situation.  I am being too nice.  

Nice guys never win.

It is much easier to just pretend those things never happened.  Let's just pretend I never said hurtful things to you.  Let's just pretend you never told me how you felt, that your needs, your wants aren't really valid after all, and that what I want always trumps what you want and that you are totally okay with denying yourself the closeness you desire from me.  What I want is you, but I don't want to admit that.  What I want is to feel close to you, but I don't want to let you close to me.  I want your forgiveness, but I am never going to ask for it.  Instead, I am going to pretend things are okay. I'm going to keep my distance, but expect you to be there when I need you to be.  I'm counting on you because I know without a doubt that you care about me.  Subconsciously, I know that your love for me gives me power.  I use that power without even considering its consequences at times, because what I want from you is more important to me than what you want.  My needs come first.  I have to take care of me, I can't trust that you will want to willingly give me what I desire, so I have to feel as if I'm tricking you into it.  This way, I come out faultless in the end, even if things don't work out.  If I maintain my stance, keep my barriers in place, refuse to make an investment of my time or energy or emotion, the consequences all become yours to bear.  I am not to blame.  I did what was right for myself.  I'm always looking out for me, and you should do the same.

Except for when I need you.  Then, you should open your arms to me and forget yourself, just long enough to offer me comfort.  Don't count on me to do the same for you.  I will offer to pray for you.  I will tell you I'm sorry for your situation.  That's all I can offer though.  It's nothing personal.  Just the nature of our relationship.

I want to depend on you, but I'm afraid to let you depend on me.  What if it's a trap?  What if I let you depend on me and then I suddenly disappear into nothing, constantly scrambling to meet your needs and losing myself?  Maybe I love you, but maybe I'm afraid your needs, your desires will overcome my own and I will find myself living a life that I never wanted, even though I wanted you. 

You have no right to be angry with me. Not ever.  Even if I do or say something hurtful to you, you must never be angry.  After all, it wasn't my intention to be distant.  I didn't intend to say mean things to you.  I didn't intend to take you for granted and if I didn't do it intentionally, it can't be wrong.  My intentions are always pure, even though my actions don't always bear that out.  Isn't that just called being human?  Doesn't everyone make mistakes?  You shouldn't be so hard on me.

I'm wounded.  I have been hurt by people I love all my life, since I was a kid.  I couldn't even trust my parents.  I was betrayed by someone I loved, over and over again.  How can I trust you?  If I love you, I give you my power and you will use that to harm me.  It isn't my fault that I am this way.  You should be more understanding.  You shouldn't expect so much of me.  You are unreasonable.

These building blocks of mine, fashioned of pain, betrayal, anger, fear, anxiety, suspicion, judgment and control have made me a fortress where I can hide from responsibility.  I pay my bills.  I buy what I need and I depend on no one.  No one but you.

Because even though I can't form the two words, I feel them.

You need to hear them.

And I hope you can just infer them. Because I'm never going to say them.

You have to forgive me anyway.