One of my favorite young people called me yesterday. It was a case of romantic heartbreak with tears and sniffles; then, toward the end of the call, a few soft giggles.
The phone call began with this announcement, “I’m sad.” I remember that feeling, the intensity and the rejection, the inability to comprehend what happened or didn’t happen. My young friends do not shed tears according to gender, the boys cry as easily as the girls do when the end arrives.
I want to hug them to reassure them that it will be better. There is someone more compatible for them out there in the great, wide world. Tragically, they waste time, just as I did, believing the fault is theirs, that they are somehow deficient as human beings and unworthy of reciprocal devotion and adoration.
Inexperience causes them to be intent on pleasing others while they deny their own conflicting dreams. It’s hard to tell them, gently, that they will one day regret the time they wasted on a person who could not appreciate the captivating wonder of who they truly are.
My experience has been that the great love of one’s life will embrace the truth of who one is and will honor the authenticity with argument and agreement and love that goes all the way to the bone. It is impossible to convey reassurance to my young friends, the passion that exists in endurance is invisible to them.
Patience will reveal the person who deserves the splendor of their true selves.