Not too long ago, I tuned my home stereo to the local soft-rock station and went into a house-cleaning frenzy. Singing along with all the out-dated love songs, I buzzed around vacuuming, scrubbing, sweeping, and dusting. My then-dog, Lucy, followed me closely from room to room, ferociously attacking the vacuum cleaner and innocently interfering with my overall progress.
At one point, while taking a break on the sofa, I decided to sing one of those sappy radio love songs to Lucy. She stood spellbound as I cradled her big yellow head in my hands and sang right to her. She listened intently, staring deeply into my eyes, panting eagerly, and wagging her tail to the beat of the music...
I never had much going
But at least I had you
How can you walk out knowing
I ain't got nothing left if you do baby
You're my soul and my heart's inspiration
You're all I got to get me by
You're my soul and my heart's inspiration
Without you baby what good am I
What good am I
I stood up to resume my housework, breaking the spell between Lucy and me, but the lyrics lingered in my mind. The Righteous Brothers were proclaiming total failure should love be lost. “Ain’t got nothing left… you’re all I got to get me by… without you baby, what good am I?” Incredibly intense lyrics!
I recall when love was that intense for me.
When I was in my teens and even my 20’s, love was powerfully distracting and all-consuming. So forceful and profound, I certainly imagined I would surely die should love be lost. My soul and my heart’s inspiration, indeed. Excessive, impassioned, raging emotion. The kind that led to promises of devotion to one person for the rest of my life, without reservation. *sigh*
I defined “true love” by that intense emotion. Anything less was dismissed as counterfeit. If I was consumed with unbridled, passionate feelings that forced me to write Righteous Brothers-style lyrics… yes, that’s when I knew I was in love for real.
I've learned a thing or two about love along the way.
For instance, I've learned that intense, raging emotion is never permanent. I've learned, too, that relationships end, and when they do, I don’t die. The planet keeps spinning. The sun, moon, and stars appear and disappear right on schedule. Go figure.
But, hey… what happened to “Ain’t got nothing left… you’re all I got to get me by… without you baby, what good am I?” Was all that a lie? Or maybe I failed. Maybe I’m not the kind of person who can sustain a love like that. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.
It’s funny—what music, media, and culture can do to a person. I grew up believing that The Cleavers modeled a successful marriage; that Mary (Tyler-Moore) Richards demonstrated genuine career success; that a "perfect" body had to look like Jeannie's; and that The Righteous Brothers were the authority on love.
Today, I know that love isn’t static.
As days go by, love ebbs and flows, always morphing, always taking on new shapes and colors. At times, love can still feel overwhelming, just like it did when I was 16. At other times, love hangs loosely off my shoulders like a comfy old sweater—it keeps me warm, though I’m hardly aware that it’s there.
Love isn’t what I thought it was. And maybe I still don’t have a handle on it, but at least I recognize that. Today, I know that love isn’t always dressed up in red hearts and warm fuzzies. In fact, it rarely is.
When I was drinking...
I carried around a heavy hunk of cement in the empty cavity of my chest, where a heart should have been. Today, after many years of sobriety, that hunk of cement has been replaced by a fully functioning, beating heart that’s able to offer and receive love. And not just that sappy, Righteous-Brothers kind of exaggerated emotional love. Instead, real love, for real people, under real-life circumstances. Day-in-day-out love that ebbs, flows, morphs, and recreates itself time and time again.
Tonight, my heart is filled with real love for you.
Karen
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