This post is also available as a podcast here: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/s-p01/episodes/Mx–Right-e270ut6

Oof. I didn’t want to write this post… because it’s hard to face the things we choose out of insecurity. I didn’t believe in Mx. “Right,” I honestly don’t remember a time in my life that I was waiting for anyone who was “right,” I just always wanted someone. I was surrounded by the ideals of a Mx. “Right,” but I never believed in them. Full disclosure: I still don’t. There’s a deeply rooted feeling in my heart that other people may have one, but I don’t. I’m going to make an effort to unpack this here, but I think this is trauma that isn’t healed… so this might not be a post filled with wisdom, just lessons.

I’m like the Mona Lisa, apparently. At least, I’ve been told this many times. My mom compared our smiles. I get it. I’ve caught myself with that same look, so I’ve seen it. I love Leonardo Da Vinci; I have always had a strange fascination with his works, so it’s one of those weird comparisons that came up repeatedly and I didn’t mind it. The Mona Lisa is described as “the best known, the most visited, the most written about, the most sung about, the most parodied work of art in the world” (thanks, Wikipedia.) Sounds nice. It’s also earned the Guinness World Record for the highest-known painting insurance valuation in history. She holds a special place in the Louvre, but she’s owned by the French Republic, not any individual. So, in a way, the Mona Lisa may have found a place in the Louvre and France, but she is on display: she doesn’t have a home.

I love many people, and many people love me – but, as I’ve repeatedly said, not that kind of love. I finally, for the first time in my life, found someone I felt like I truly loved. Someone I could fight for, stand beside, and love through anything. I thought they loved me that way, too. I wrote before about how I was never excited by any of my marriage proposals… this was someone that made me feel that way. Like, if I had them in my life every day for the rest of my life, I can’t imagine being happier. Living my life without them has waves of grief, because I have no doubt that I love them. Clearly, they weren’t Mx. “Right,” but ever since that loss – I don’t care to find Mx. “Right.”

Part of me wishes I’d waited for a Mx. “Right.” My relationships were so empty of that connection and love. Worst of all, they were lacking in respect and support. I’m at a point in my life where those are the things I know I want. I had fun, but it took a long time for me to find the kind of love that actually felt like it would last. I talked about feeling like the love from others was conditional, but in reality, I think that was a projection of my love being conditional – strictly speaking of intimate and/or romantic relationships here. My friendships are different. I kept getting in relationships out of convenience. I leaned into my universal love, and/or my friend love, seeking romantic love. As though, somehow I could make it happen because I love people so much.

This romantic love, long-standing love that I feel – I couldn’t make it stop. I tried, with every fiber of my being, to just make it stop. To keep this person at the same distance that every other person I’ve gotten close to had. That kind of love isn’t a choice. Fight against it every day, and it still finds you. Yet, they aren’t my Mx. “Right”? No. As far as I can tell, they aren’t. This far along, the messages I received, the work I’ve done – I just finally got to learn true heartbreak. Why? I hope I find out someday. I thought I knew heartbreak. I’ve cried many tears for many people in my life. I’ve felt the losses. But, none of them were like this. Nothing shattered my soul like this.

I’ve sought love my whole life. It took finding and losing it for me to stop seeking it. I wouldn’t go back to the version of me that didn’t know what this love felt like. I guess that’s what they mean when they say “better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” I’m not going to claim that you have a Mx. “Right,” but I hope you seek out that kind of love. Not the blissful, childhood loves, but the deeply seated love of someone who brightens your day simply by existing because they appreciate and support you – they see you more than anyone else. That’s the special thing, the rare thing.

I said I still don’t believe in Mx. “Right,” I don’t – not for me. I love freely, I love completely. I can’t say that I love one person and will never love anyone else. I tried, and I can’t make that promise. I could love someone for the rest of my life, and in fact there are at least two people that I will love in that way for the rest of my life. I embrace the ideals of polyamory, and I genuinely mean that in terms of romantic, long-lasting love. I will not confine my love to one person and deny my love of others. I can be committed, loyal, and honest – but that means I cannot deny my love for people. I never could live in lies, I’m open and honest to a fault. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My love said I was like the Mona Lisa, too. I will probably never understand how someone could love me that much and then cast me aside. They seemed to think that there was something better out there for me. Maybe there is, but I’ll be surprised if it is. It’s not impossible. Nothing is impossible, not to a dreamer like me. I see the Louvre as more of a prison than a home. The Mona Lisa is on display, protected from and admired by the masses. No one can get close enough to touch her. That sounds like a lonely existence to me. So, I don’t want to be like the Mona Lisa anymore. I want to be me.

My story this week is about painting.

I’m an artist and a scientist. However, I’ve mostly dabbled in the performing arts. I love the performing arts. Theatre, dance, choir, etc. Put me on a stage! I love it. I was terrible at the fine arts. Drawing? Hahahaha. Sculpting? No. Painting? Well, not the way most people do it. I got a set of acrylics and brushes one year, and I still don’t remember why. My first husband could paint and draw, and it was cool to learn some things from him. So, I’m sure he inspired the purchase somehow, or bought them for me. My brushwork is terrible…

While I was finishing my PhD I started what has henceforth been named the “Dissertation Series” of paintings. I’m not trained, and although I started the series with the brushes, I quickly stopped using brushes. I finger paint. I love painting with my fingers. I enjoy the texture and my works look aesthetically pleasing when I use my fingers. My brushwork looked weird and forced, and was not pleasing. However, if I dig into my 5-year-old self and cover myself in paint while painting – I love it.

What works for you might not work for everyone, but find what works for you and revel in it. If you have a Mx. “Right,” they’ll love and support that in you.

Much love, -S.