This is not a new thing for me. I destroyed my first diary out of fear of discovery of several crushes I had going at the time. It was a little red, drug store diary with a tiny gold key. I filled the pages up with miscellaneous life of a 12 year old; I would give $10 to have it back today so I could revisit that 12 year old. (I’m currently fascinated with this personal story of mine).
In (what I hope) is the beginning of the middle of my life, I find I’ve forgotten so much of my younger self that doesn’t relate to fear, abandonment, or longing. I know there was more to my childhood than that. I don’t think I could have survived if there wasn’t more. I imagine these crushes, at least in the beginning, might have been something wonderful.
The subject arises as a result of stream of consciousness ruminations which began with my current crush. A very unlikely point of fixation that I won’t describe, but I’m smiling just thinking about the possibilities, impossible though they are.
The dictionary definition of “Crush is an interesting read. It is filled with pain and violence:
1.To press between opposing bodies so as to break or injure.
2. To break, pound, or grind (stone or ore, for example) into small fragments or powder.
3. To put down; subdue: crushed the rebellion.
4. To overwhelm or oppress severely: spirits that had been crushed by rejection and failure.
5. To crumple or rumple: crushed the freshly ironed shirt.
6. To hug, especially with great force.
7. To press upon, shove, or crowd.
8. To extract or obtain by pressing or squeezing
Then buried near the bottom is the informal meaning:
1. A usually temporary infatuation.
When I first read that I thought, wow I wonder how that word came to mean those two very different things. Then I remembered again, that little red diary and that as those crushes went on without reciprocation or acknowledgment, how I was crushed. I wasn’t popular, I wasn’t pretty, I wasn’t thin and I wasn’t very girlie which I thought others felt to be a more desirable way to be.
And yet here I am again, crushing. Still not particularly popular, charming but not pretty, definitely not thin, and only occasionally do I have moments which could be called anything close to girlie. What I have gained in the 31 years since 12 is experience, success, failures and wisdom. So I’m enjoying this crush and won’t be crushed when it passes.
That is all.