Where Do Broken (Male) Hearts Go?
Where do broken hearts go?
If you said “the heartbreak hotel”, congratulations, you just dated yourself. You are right though, kinda. According to several studies, broken female hearts go to “the heart break hotel”, a place where they cry, delete and/or burn relationship keepsakes and memorabilia, cry some more on a friend’s shoulder, rant and sing-along to sad pop songs. For the broken male hearts, many of them go into a dark alley, which I call “the hole”...
Where do broken hearts go?
If you said “the heartbreak hotel”, congratulations, you just dated yourself. You are right though, kinda. According to several studies, broken female hearts go to “the heart break hotel”, a place where they cry, delete and/or burn relationship keepsakes and memorabilia, cry some more on a friend’s shoulder, rant and sing-along to sad pop songs. For the broken male hearts, many of them go into a dark alley, which I call “the hole”—a place where they bottle up their feelings, grow a beard, drink a little too much and desperately seek distractions to preoccupy their minds. After being here a while, it’s no surprise they end up enrolling in the greatest institution of all time— the Royal Academy of Heartbreakers (RAH).
Yes, it would appear that heartbroken people tend to go to either of these two places when their hearts have been ripped out of their chests—the Heartbreak hotel(HH) or the Royal Academy of Heartbreakers (RAH).
As you would imagine, at the RAH, students acquire the unique skill set of breaking hearts, after taking the mandatory first year prerequisite of Emotional Dissociation and a 4-unit course in Commitment Unavailability.
Eventually, they graduate with flying, soaring colors, wearing their academic hats, and are handed their certificates along with a pitch fork. They are released in legions into society, where they make their alma mata proud by sweeping through Ladiesville and leaving many shattered hearts in their wake. The female survivors of Ladiesville then check into heartbreak hotel...It’s all a vicious cycle.
Research shows breakups have a more devastating effect on men than on women. Mainly because they don’t choose the most effective way to heal. You know, beard..."the hole"...bottles of ale...rebounds. And no, the best way to get over someone isn’t by getting under someone else. The hurt and pain still stand unresolved.
Men aren't endowed with the emotional support women get so freely from friends and family and men lack safe spaces to express how they truly feel in every step of their healing process. I personally believe they deserve a safe place where they can bawl their eyes out, etch gothic scribblings on walls, chew their toe nails, shower once in two months and munch on dry cereal. Or at least have the option of wearing duo-tone spandex while wailing and miming to Taylor Swift songs in their bathroom mirror. They deserve the safe space to process their emotions so they can recover properly.
According to Dr. Miller of the University of Utah, *heads up, sports/orthopedic analogy* when a rookie suffers from a fracture or bone injury, there’s a chance their bones may not heal right . This is usually because they may undergo non-operative treatment, in other words, they don’t select the right treatment plan for their fracture. This results in malalignment of the bone. This mutation is sometimes visibly observable in some patients. You can tell a mile away. When the proper healing route isn’t selected, sometimes, there’s a malformation. (Men, note that I chose sports and bones as an analogy because it’s all macho and stuff. You are welcome.)
When a heart doesn’t heal right, then out come the pitch forks.
This guy surely has a pitch fork.
It’s a great idea for your heart to heal the right way. But how do you know your heart is healed?
Answer: It’s available to love again, wisely but genuinely. You also don’t own a pitch fork, you aren’t in possession of little black books (or the modern day equivalent, whatever that is) and you aren’t a renowned creep on dating websites. And of course, your beard is grown for a good cause. Of course.
What do you think? Did you heal right from all your past relationships? Do you think men get enough emotional support in their heart break journeys?
Related posts you'd love: Get Over Him On A Budget! & The Sunny Side Of Your Breakup!
The Retirement of A Melodramatic Feminist
Once upon a time, I was a feminist. I wasn't born a feminist though. Long story; a guy broke my heart, danced on it, put it in a blender and poured it down the drain. Suddenly, I hated men. I hated them all (which makes very little sense, as it was just one man with whom I had an issue, and who I was fairly certain was evil personified). Still, they were all the enemy- these men. "They are all the same!" That was my chorus and "I will survive" was my anthem. They thought I'd crumble, they thought I'd lay down and die, O no not I!
Suddenly, I was very determined to make "my own money" and be financially independent; intentionally financially unattached to any man...except my dad, of course. Love you, dad! [That ended at some point though. Lol]
I was a different type of feminist- the hypocritical kind, whose adherence to feminism was developed from my bitterness and innate desire for revenge, and to be above men in every endeavor- an insincere kind of feminism.
All of a sudden, I wanted rights for women. I was now concerned if women in country A had access to education and freedom. I cared if country B prevented women from buying property. I cared if a woman was being abused down the street. If my friend complained about her boyfriend..."Break up with him." I'd say, not batting an eyelid.
It was really interesting watching my hurt morph into this weird caricature of feminism. True, I never burnt my bra or went days with shaving my underarms or shredded my wig, still, it was fun joining the band wagon.
If I could travel back in time and see myself back then, I'd tell myself that feminism isn't a game. It isn't a tool to whack men over the head or a balm to ease my pulverized heart but a platform for the avocation of dignity, respect and freedom for all women.
If I could see the old me, I'd tell her that men aren't the enemy, they never were; that the enemy is ignorance. Ignorance in every sense of the word; ignorance of men who pulverize hearts for fun, my ignorance for not being streetwise, my ignorance of not having important information about this heart breaker person before diving in, as for the society, their ignorance of the benefits of celebrating and supporting women.
Years ago, I put an end to being vindictive and my resentment towards men evaporated, with that came a new understanding.
My discomfort was negligible in comparison to little girls prevented from going to school, women who are abused just down the street, and single mums who are discriminated against. Yes, my feelings were justified but not the most appropriate fuel for the vehicle of fighting injustice.
And so in my retirement, I decided to revise this whole feminist thing. I decided that I don't need a title to solve injustice. All I'd ever need is a heart which isn't self-centered. A heart that does not muddle up compassion with hate and revenge. A heart that is truly compassionate and pure. A heart that longs to serve- with that I will solve injustice one woman at a time.
Have you ever been in this pseudo-feminism bubble? What are your thoughts? Ever wondered how to get information about someone you are dating? Download your PGI inquisition form here!
Real Stories #6: What I Saw When I Opened Her Bedroom Door
They always say be 'Friends First', apparently the best relationships are with those people you first build friendships with. I don’t know why, but it is what they say, so don’t argue, just Find a Friend and date the hell out of them.
I did.
I was in the University and I was friends with this super-cool girl. From the first conversation, we had so much common ground; same taste in music, movies, same goals, same quirky humour, and the same type of crazy. She was "my guy"! It was so intense, the friendship, we were always up to something and it was funky all the time. Dating her never crossed my mind though, until one evening when I narrowly escaped falling into a ditch and instead fell on her lips.
Maybe it was love all the while, and so the amazing friendship birthed a beautiful relationship. She was even better in relationship-mode. She could cook a storm and a chilled day. She made sure I went to church and read my bible, solid woman! I was happy and content, so I gained weight.
We had dated for a year and then one evening, I walked in on her having sex with this man. I opened the door and there my girlfriend was, on top of him, cowgirl style. I remember the sweat on her face, the crease of her brows, the shock on her face. The man was visibly startled, there was a brief commotion on the bed, but in all of this, she didn’t stop riding him, they just kept on, apparently too shocked to stop or whatever. I froze there and watched for about 10 seconds, I died 7 times.
I rushed out of the room and then I started to run, I’m talking real actual sprinting. I don’t know why I was running, but it was in the direction of my car. There was water coming out of my eyes, plenty of water, but I wasn’t crying, I can’t explain the biology. This was by far the most pain I had ever felt, it was traumatic, and my chest hurt, like it physically hurt. The haunting picture of her on top of him that I still can’t "un-see".
How can somebody just blind-side you with some real shit like that? This solid woman. This fight-with-me-if-I-didn’t-go-to-church woman. Where did my girlfriend find Aristo? So I am just ordinary school boyfriend? So many questions.
Maybe being cheated on isn’t fun. Maybe fall into a ditch instead. Maybe always knock and don’t badge into your girlfriend’s room. Maybe dust yourself up and move on. Maybe it’s no big deal and shit happens. Maybe don’t trust people anymore. Maybe stay hopeful. Maybe the best relationships are with those people you first build friendships with.
She said she was sorry.
This is story #6 of the "Dating Like Crazy" series (read #5, #4, #3, #2 and #1 ). This article was written by an anonymous contributor. Please note that this is a real story, please comment kindly. Thanks.
Real Stories #2: Her Side-Sausage And other Case Studies
The writer of this article travels a lot for work, lives in hotel rooms, meets exotic women and his adventures are based on his encounters on these travels.
"It's a man's world," They say.
"Yoruba demons are evil!" They screech.
"Beware of the beard gang", They whisper.
"He left me and got married a week later!" They grumble as they delete his photos furiously.
The idea that men are the only ones capable of inflicting any form of emotional pain in a relationship or any other stage of interaction is quite flawed. We aren't the only ones who dole out the hurt and pain- the women are not doing too badly in that department either!
"Prove it!" I hear you yell.
Like you had to ask.
Case study 1: Miss X, the Queen of Sausages
Miss X and I weren't official yet. We had been on for a few weeks, trying to "define things". At some point during this 'definition' era, she told me she was going to Abuja with her boss to meet with a potential client.
I would later come to realize that the boss and the potential client were, in fact non-existent and that Miss X actually had herself a little side-sausage up North. I admit that there were some signs I conveniently ignored and that I shouldn't have.
For example, in the first week, she kept asking to check my messages and chats. This really threw me off at first, but I didn't think much of it until later. You see, I had given her no reasons to be suspicious. Why had she transformed herself into Sherlock? Was this what I was about to sign up for? But in the end, I realized that only guilty people become suspicious for no reason.
One night, she had a little too much to drink and told me about 'side-sausage'.
Case Study 2: Miss Y, the Queen of Isiewu
Miss Y spent 2 days in my hotel room and wouldn't let me past first base. Hanky-panky couldn't have been more absent. During this time, she conveniently ran up a bill for my room consisting mainly of Isiewu, while I was away at work.
I remember standing and staring as she drove off in her uber into the warm sunset, the thick wad of Isiewu receipts in my palm. Classic Maga case, nothing to be ashamed of, Typical Mr Nice-Guy, we have all been there at some point in our careers.
Miss Y...well spoken, fun and alive, Half Swiss I recall.
I am grateful to God for replenishing my pocket.
Case Study 3: Miss Z, the Queen of Grilled fish
Miss Z…..oh Miss Z…..She friend zoned me so fast, I got wrinkles from the whiplash. The sad part was that, all through our interaction, I actually had the impression that I was making strides in a positive direction.
After all the Grilled-fish dinners (which I misunderstood as dates) and our night outs (during which she usually brought along her friends...of course, I paid), after all the trips, taking her to school(Bowen) in my official car complete with a chauffeur and police escort. The sum total of the reciprocated feelings I received were that of a 'friend closer than a brother.'
So you see, it's not just us the guys.
At first, my conclusion was that these girls ain’t loyal or were just plain evil, just like people think men are. The question is, are they really? Aren't women just as dangerous?
However, I have been privileged with the opportunity to travel for work a lot, and I've ended up with a rather eclectic romantic repertoire which I believe has given me a big picture perspective and helped me, believe it or not, appreciate women in a different way than most.
The relationship that left quite the impression was the most farfetched- so, some way, somehow, I dated an Arab lady from the Northern parts of Africa. A little unusual, but she was awesome- humble, intelligent, with a good sense of perceptive empathy, like nothing I've ever seen.
Unfortunately, "Thou shalt not be unequally yoked with unbelievers" and that’s the final say on the matter. However, I would say she definitely set the bar and helped me redefine what a relationship should be and for that I am grateful.
This article was written by an anonymous contributor. His views and opinions are entirely his and do not necessarily reflect the views of PGI on this topic. This is story #2 of the Dating Like Crazy series (read #1 here). Please note that this is a real story, please comment kindly. Thanks.
Useful posts: What girls really want from the good guys, here.
Real Stories #1 : Heartbreak and Bathroom Tiles
Part 1 : Fairy Tales
I had always been a relationship-type of girl. I don’t think I could go two months without having a boyfriend.
Not that I couldn’t be on my own, I was just a hopeless romantic and I “fairy-taled" all my boyfriends, (yes, even the drug-dealing one), until I met my own version of a Universal demon, forget Yoruba now.
He was a grade A Universal demon.
Tunde* was everything I wished for, a good-looking, well-mannered Christian. He was great at his job, could make me laugh for days, and we just clicked.
It wasn’t long before he told me he loved me, and boy, did I sleep with a huge grin and butterflies flipping my insides out with joy that night.
Now usually in relationships, I try not to get too attached, especially with family members. In fact, I avoid family members just so it’s easier to let go if things go south, that way no extra emotional drama pops up.
With Tunde, I was all in. I met the folks after about 2 months of dating him, then his siblings. They were so welcoming and when a deeply traditional family accepts you (especially the mum and sister); you have crossed the rainbow bridge of judgement (phew!). His family loved me, and I slowly warmed up to them. We went on family trips and dates together, his mum was fantastic and treated me like her last-born!
A year later, we were both over-seas for postgrad and we were in a long distance relationship. We worked really hard at the relationship. LDR wasn’t going to kill what we had. We spoke all the time, we tried to see each other every other month, or 2 months.
At the end of my program, I submitted my thesis and I decided to move to his city and be closer to him, while I hunted for a job.
One night, I get a call from my friend. She was crying and terrified that she had gotten an STD from her boyfriend, who clearly wasn’t faithful to her. I was on the phone with her for an hour. Tunde was with me and heard the context of the conversation.
I get off the phone and go on a rant about how every Naija guy wants a good girl, but they get one and can’t even treat the girl right. I’m so pissed off. I’m ranting and he just keeps looking at me, calming me down. He leaves for a minute, then comes back and tells me to sit down.
Much calmer now, I sit and I’m waiting for what he has to say. He looks at me and says ‘I need to tell you something.’ My heart sinks, but I don’t let it show.
What’s happening?
My heart starts racing, the 6 words usher in confusion and I’m on a guessing marathon of all the things that it might be. He starts talking and I hear those 4 magical words. No, not “Will you marry me?”
Instead he says, “I cheated on you”…… then everything just sort of goes blank. He keeps talking and I cut in, “Is she pregnant?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Part 2: Bathroom Tiles
I’m on the bathroom floor, locked in, in shock, numb, can’t move, at 11pm on a cold winter night and then the tears start. They start and won’t stop.I can’t even remember what I was feeling then, but I must have cried for hours, staring at the white tiles.
According to his story, his story, because that’s all it will ever be, this happened 6 months ago and it happened once. 6 months ago I was writing my final papers, practically sleeping in the library, strung up on coffee and you were screwing some girl you met at the gym, just great.
I leave the next morning, but I leave a completely different person.
I don’t think people who cheat realize how damaging it is. I think the worst thing about being cheated on for me was the shame. The shame to your friends, the shame of not noticing it, the shame of believing in a lie but mostly, the shame to yourself. It destroys you emotionally, eats at your self-esteem and your psyche.
I went through so many thoughts and yoyo- emotions from maybe I wasn’t good enough, maybe I wasn’t great in bed, maybe I became boring, maybe I should have been less this or more that. The “maybes”, “whys” and “what if’s” keep you awake at night wondering why Ursula (no jokes, she looked like Ursula from the Little Mermaid) could even be attractive to him and how many Ursula’s there were, which germs did he give you from the Ursula(s).
The family detachment was hard as well, he is their son after all, so they have to stand by him (see why I don’t do the family thing). Just a toxic mess of my fairytale.
Flash-forward to now, I look around me and see even worse happening to people. My story is child’s play compared to what some people go through.
When I ask people why they cheat, there never seems to be a reasonable answer…. Ever.
It’s still a mystery, the cheating thing… like isn’t it better to break up with the person and be free to bed hop. Some people told me to stay and forgive him, “Is it just ordinary cheating that is making you break up!” They said, “The fact that he told you himself means he is sorry.” Lol, society is fun!
Of course, I left him for good.
Dating after being cheated on, is fun too *dry chuckle*. My walls are so high that even when I like the person, I hold back. I found that guys don’t really have the patience to understand that it takes some effort to get me from behind my walls, they just move on at the slightest resistance.
I can’t blame them really, this isn’t “The Notebook”.
And while I still haven’t figured out what I am going to do about my love life, I’ve learnt to trust in God to bring the right person my way, its been almost 4 years now, fingers crossed he hasn’t been hit by a truck.
*not his real name
Disclaimer: This article was written by an anonymous contributor. Her views and opinions are entirely hers and do not necessarily reflect the views of PGI on this topic.
This is story #1 of the Dating Like Crazy series. Please note that this is a real story, please comment kindly. Thanks.
Useful posts: Get over him on a budget; The sunny-side of your breakup; How to find 'X'.
Lemonade-From Halo to Pitch-Fork
I recently saw Beyoncé in her new visual album, Lemonade, where she talks about dealing with life's lemons! She talks about cheating husbands, some mysterious lady called “Becky with the good hair” (the drama, the memes...lol!), politics, heartbreak and reconciliation. Some people think it's a publicity stunt, a gimmick, which the Carters maybe cashing in on; i don't know, but one thing is certain-- Beyoncé is the Queen of crazy eyes! She has that crazy woman-scorned glare! Whether scripted or not, it's present all over her face in the one-hour video, especially in the song, Hold Up, where she runs down a street in a flowing mustard dress, smashing things with a baseball bat.
There’s only one reason in the history of histories why women ever hold a baseball bat, ever--to smash the belongings and to separate the glass from the metal in a cheating lover’s car. Women don’t touch a baseball bat for anything less. The grip is accompanied by, of course, the crazy eyes, angry, hot breath and a self-satisfied look when the deed is done.
How do women get here though? She wasn't always like that, our hypothetical crazed girl. Was she? No mother births a baseball bat-wielding, burn-his-clothes-in-the-tub, crazy-eyed baby! Clearly, it a process and journey to this state.
How do women get here? Ok, true, we get a little crazy eyed at the start of menarche and every month since then but this is a different type of nuts. The nuts caused by men. Pun intended.
The typical woman on her wedding day is full of laughter, throwing bouquets, a priceless smile on her face that photographers capture with ease. Everything is beautiful, the tiers of cake, petals and tulle everywhere! The love of her life- there he is. All regal and dapper. Forever couldn’t come in better hide. On this day, there is no possibility of crazy eyes, not at the moment or even in the future. This is our default mode, let’s call her, Halo. Halo, it will always be until an unfortunate day when she is required to carry a bat, then, even hell takes a step back in fright when this scorned woman takes to the streets.
Lemonade got me asking a lot of questions; Do Halo's know from the scratch that he might cheat? Are women able to tell if a man has infidelity propensities? "If he loves you, you won't find out", what does this even mean?! How much is a baseball bat? What do women do in Nigeria, when a guy cheats? (we don't have bats) I once heard of a girl who tried to throw away the guy's stuff and got beaten up*blink*. Another girl got beaten up by the guy and his side chic, my opinion, she should have tased them.
What do men do when a girl cheats? They don't break her perfume bottles, cut out the cups in her bras and deflate her tires, do they? How distressing for her, especially the bras.
Should I make lemonades this summer? Those are the questions running through my mind. And of course, who in the world is "Becky with the good hair"?
Ok, if you read this, you should answer at least one question! Lol! Have you seen the "Lemonade" video?
Side-chic Rehab: How to Slay that Heartbreak
This one is for the side-chics.
The ones who took the brave leap of partition and said 'I'm done with this ish', and bravely broke up with that predatory man who constantly chose someone else over them.
Congratulations!!! No one has probably told you and you may not feel it just yet, but you did the right thing by breaking up with him! You saved everyone a lot of misfortune including yourself, you do not want to be on a scorned wife's to-do list, trust me. It only ever results in undignified cat fights or sometimes, more hazardous encounters. Here are some tips to help through your transition. I hope it helps:
Heal
It probably hurts as much as any breakup, so it's great to cry. Cry all month or year, if you want. I hope you have a friend who knows the whole story and is willing to be there for you, without rolling her eyes as she hands you the tissues. However, keep in mind that side-chics receive little or no sympathy from people, so don't expect any.
Forgive yourself
You have come to the decision either by your own volition or by coercion, understanding that living without him is ideal, that shows a lot of courage. If for a long time, you have hated yourself for it, it's time to forgive yourself and let it go. Lesson learnt moving on.
Forget closure
Closure is over-rated, don't bother trying to find out why he did it or why he wouldn't leave his wife for you. Don't try to reach out to his wife either. No, sending her an apology is not a good idea. It was never between you and her. They are a unit, regardless of what he said about her. She doesn't need closure from you. If she needs closure, she will get it from his apology or whatever way they sort their issues out.
Just retreat and lick your wounds (for all eternity, that expression would always sound gross). The great thing about life is that licking your wounds is not as gloomy as it sounds. You could amuse yourself with a purchase or travel somewhere by yourself, eat some exotic street food on the upbeat streets of Marrakech or some fine dining at L'Ambroisie, umm or at home on a paper plate.
If you are on a budget, you are in luck! Read here for budget/heart break tips.
Now to the fun part!!!!! His gifts. What to do?
So now that you are out of the relationship, it's time to give out that Cartier watch and the Marco Bicego necklace. I know we all want to keep the stuff, right, but items have a way of reminding us of every moment and shared breath. You really want to give them out. If you are considering burning them, especially the car, consider other options (no point being dramatic and ruining the ozone). Find someone who is sorely in need. Hopefully someone you don't see too often and just hand them over.
No one ever takes this advice lol so it's ok if you just hid your Ferragamo purse in the back of your drawer when you read this tip.
Time to rebuild those bridges
It's time to get in touch with all the people you broke ties with because they wouldn't support your side-chic status; mum, siblings, friends etc. Try spending time around friends and also people who are in need or hurting and find ways to bring them joy.
Come to mama, fishes in the sea
Get out there! The good news is there are oodles of men on the planet. The better news is there a specific guy for you out there who is currently unattached! The bad news is he might be buried in a haystack. Here's a post that could help with finding him!
Acquire some good judgement
Good judgement and prudence will do you a world of good. It definitely will prevent you from making the same mistake twice! How do you acquire good judgement? The best sources are self-improvement books. Just google "Books on good judgement" or just download a bible! That works. Note that it's a continuous process and requires practice.
Remember to do something meaningful for people around you. Being more sensitive to the needs of others is the best way to deal with pain within.
What to do with your libido?
I wish I knew. If you weren't having sex with him, well, great, it usually takes a lesser time to get over a man you weren't sleeping with. If you were, it might be time to find three hobbies. Why three? Well, one active, one semi-docile like painting or beading or sewing and one in your community which involves helping people. You might also want to avoid risqué material. Just saying.
Side chicks are forever despised by society and the recovering ones need a place to go. Pagesbyike is your go-to! We take everyone contrite❤️ .
Any advice for retired side-chics? If this helped you, please comment below. You can be anonymous if you want. Just sign in and fill in 'Anonymous' as your name! Are you considering dumping a guy who has you on the side, we can help!
Letters to my Greatgrand Daughter- Why You Don't Deserve to be Happy
Dear Charly,
You do not deserve to be happy. Yes, I said it! YOU DO NOT DESERVE TO BE HAPPY!
You deserve joy-the highest form of it. You should want to climb to the top of a mountain and scream in delight, just because you can. You shouldn't have to pout and sulk because you lost a job or can't find Mr. Right or be sentenced to moodiness because Mr. Kinda-Right is acting up. Joy is that sparkly ball of tickled delight that bubbles unconditionally somewhere from your mid-gut, somewhere between your large intestines and stomach.
Oh Charly, if there is a man who makes you just plain ol' happy, i hope you are beginning to see how ordinary, common and unexciting that is. Happiness is dependent on variable factors; people, money, success, jewelry, makeup (don't ask), friends. They all have one thing in common, the lack of the consistency and the permanent ability to keep you in a constant state of happiness! So if Mr. Kinda-Right or even Mr. Right makes you happy, good for him, the day he doesn't feel too giving, guess what you'll have bobbing around your intestines? Joy! Crazy, infectious joy.
True, there is a time to cry and pout, certainly, but make sure it doesn't overwhelm you to the point of hopelessness. Endeavor not to crumble under heartbreaks and disappointments. My first heartbreak was very similar to the 6th layer of Dante's description of hell. I was lost to the world, whenever I was conscious, and whenever I fell asleep I sighed in relief as I slipped into oblivion, temporarily rid of the evil and pain on the earth. Every time I saw him, it would feel like my heart had been ripped from my chest severally and there was nothing left. It was the first time I would subject my state of joy to a person; unfortunately that wouldn't be the last time. I learnt much too late to learn to keep my state of mind independent of the willful actions of other humans or expectations. How about this- You be the one who infects with this beautiful thing called joy. It requires a conscious effort and a permanent reminder that you are full of so much love and positivity that, really, it's a wonder you haven't imploded! Your joy is from within and your internal environment must always be kept in a constant state of controlled delight, let nothing have access to it.
“Joy comes when you make peace with who you are, where you are, why you are, and who you are not with. When you need nothing more than your truth and the love of a good God to bring peace, then you have settled into the abiding joy that is not rocked by relationships. It’s not rocked by anything.”
So, you see you do not deserve to be happy. Not even a little.
Love,
GreatGran x