When You’re Missing Your Other Half

When I sit and think about what I’m missing, I don’t understand how it can feel so good to dwell here and hurt all at once. Why is that so human?

Obviously my body, mind, and soul are aligned when it comes to him. And that should mean something in this universe. Sure, I’m only human. I’m traumatized by nature.

Aren’t we all? That’s about as close to any man-made religious belief I partly agree with—we are born sinners… but replace sinners with “sufferers”.

HIM.

I recognize that it’s about a masculine energy I can’t even begin to describe. It’s about a being that I don’t necessarily consider a higher power or religious entity.

No, just the energy of a secular man who can make me feel at home again, like when I was a newborn in my mother’s arms, before finding out that the feeling of home wouldn’t last. 

Similar to a taste on my lips after a day of eating sweets, fruit, and drinking wine—it seems to linger on, but I don’t know what it is.

Just a strong need to stay with it. Have it in my life. I yearn for this mystery soul every. Single. Day. Of. My. Life.

But no, I know it is not a deity. It is merely the energy of a man who can help make me feel fine to just be, to know what it feels like to be safe and ultimately come home again to my authentic self. My purest, most sincere self that will feel nothing but belonging.

All I can come to is the idea that perhaps that masculine energy is me. Maybe I can be the one to provide my feminine desire to be loved, protected, and embraced by my own masculinity within myself. Maybe I am my own other half. My own shelter. My own belonging. Maybe…