Sunday, June 5, 2016

Locks That Fit Our Keys


“A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we’re pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we’re safe in our own paradise." 



I chose a picture of a really old lock, shaped like a heart, for a reason. Without knowing it, most of us placed a lock on our hearts a long time ago. Every time we let someone hurt us, we added another layer of steel. Thinking that would keep the pain away, forgetting that we control our pain. Each time we let someone in and they ravage our lives, we strengthened the lock by reinforcing the door. One time we opened up and showed our true selves and someone we love damaged our soul, we even buried the key. We hit that sucker good, even forgot to make a map of where we put it. We promised ourselves "never again."

And now, here we are. All those years later. All those loves with their beautiful keys, cast away like old socks with elastic that got too loose and they bother you when they slide down in your shoe. You keep them around, in the back of the sock drawer, hesitant to throw them out since they are pretty comfortable most of the time. New socks might not fit so well.

They allow it. They let us keep them around, because like us, they are also scared of change. They realize that if they make things uncomfortable, we might reject them. We might find a replacement, something newer and better. Neither of us realize that we're the problem, not the solution. Nobody understands that we created the mess we're in, and that we also hold the answer.

I'm damaged. I freely admit it. The very first adult love (if you call 14 "adult") was someone I've probably never completely gotten over. It ended as unfinished business. As did the next time. And the next. Disturbing pattern, but I'm guessing I'm not alone in it. And it was for a good reason: their key obviously quit fitting my locks. Yes, plural. Don't be shocked, you have more than one as well, I'm betting.

I was smart enough once to take a break and let life's wheel turn. Or so I thought. I let someone in, just a peep in the door. And that's the one that haunts me every night. And most days. I watch from afar, knowing that I'd drop my life in a second if situations changed. I never lost touch, never lost contact, but above all I never lost hope. It's quite the burden sometimes, the ray of hope shines back at me every so often and my heart skips. With joy, with fear, at the thought of paradise.

Yeah, I know. It could turn out to be a big disappointment, a sad mistake. But I'm everfaithful that there is something waiting on the other side of the door, and someday (soon would be great!) the key that fits my lock will find its way home.

But enough about me..... you set those locks too, you know? You planned it just right, and whenever things go a bit wrong, you close that door and lock it from the inside. Which places you all alone, behind that sturdy door you built over time, without even a peephole. If you can't see out, nobody can see in. And you can only isolate someone so long before they make a change. They won't sit in a drawer full of other raggedy socks forever. They deserve better. And so do you. I mean we.

There is no master key in life, in love. There's just one for each lock. Go find the one that's waiting for yours.

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