February 25, 2014

loving loudly.

I love loudly. Always have.

Maybe it's the writer in me, or the actress in me, or the fact that I'm a youngest child, but for as long as I can remember, I've been the sort of person who loves big. I love big and I love outward, and there's not a person in the room who doesn't know when I love the person sitting beside me. Not a thing about me is subtle, not really. (Except maybe my passion for chain restaurants, because I'm fully aware of how lame and sad and Midwest it is to adore a place like Olive Garden. Still, I mean — the breadsticks.)

The point is, my love can sometimes be a bit deafening in its force, and I've found that it can be both comforting and terrifying, both reassuring and altogether paralyzing for a person to be on the other end of that loud kind of love. For a long time, I don't think I knew of anything different. I'm fortunate enough to have over-the-top, outrageously giving parents who show their love in everyday Post Its on the bathroom mirror, in rooms filled with balloons, and in giant posters that say "You did it!" at every finish line, literally and figuratively. To love, I learned early on, was to say it. To do it.

Every day there was a note, and with every good grade or well-played game, there was a dinner of your choosing — that's the way it worked for our family. And don't even get me started on birthdays.

Buoyed by loud love in all its noisy, chaotic glory, it's now the only way I know to be. Sometimes I find that it's a strength, and other times I know it to be unnecessary — cloying, even, and in the wrong hands, a bit selfish. It's sort of magnificent, though, to know love like that. An obvious, palpable love.

Of course, of course I married Radley. My husband loves quietly, confidently, and with such good, true intention that it sort of knocks the wind out of you. His quiet love, it sneaks into the way he listens, rapt, and the way he can calm a person, any person, and the way he pours your coffee into the better mug, although you know he'd rather have it for himself. You can make out Radley's love in how he laughs quickly and forgives easily. How he comforts. It's found in his knowing smile, in how he looks at you when you're laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners while a light spreads itself across his face.

I admire it — quiet love. There's something to be said for feelings that don't need to be shouted, for the steady, everyday love that's all the more powerful in its sweet, barely-there whisper.


Natalie said... [Reply to comment]

Laura, you are killing it with your posts lately!! I especially loved "Returning Home" :)

Thanks for sharing!

Brass Honey said... [Reply to comment]

Laura, this is absolute perfection. I'm so happy for you. You had me smiling from ear to ear and now there's the tiniest of tears running down my cheek. You absolutely managed to touch my heart with the sweet post. Have a great day friend.

Cyndi said... [Reply to comment]

I was hooked in your first two lines. I nodded my head emphatically saying - me, too, I love loudly, too. I get that! And then I laughed because I, too, have a writer and actress in me and am a youngest child. I feel like every post of yours I read feels like my own truths. And I hope that is a compliment to you. I can relate so easily. Even to being with a man who loves quietly while I shout it from the rooftops. And especially to the Olive Garden breadsticks... and salad. Oh, that endless salad!

AM said... [Reply to comment]

Love this post, and a few others you have written as well lately. You have a way with words that seems to touch the soul and inspire the world.

NYLON Girl said... [Reply to comment]

Awesome posts of late and I think this is my favourite. I think everyone I know says I wear my heart on my sleeve and sometimes that means loving loudly and getting hurt but hey-ho we all have our thing.

NYLON Girl said... [Reply to comment]

Awesome posts of late and I think this is my favourite. I think everyone I know says I wear my heart on my sleeve and sometimes that means loving loudly and getting hurt but hey-ho we all have our thing.

Laura Marie Meyers said... [Reply to comment]

@Natalie Aw, thanks Natalie!

Laura Marie Meyers said... [Reply to comment]

@Cyndi Seriously, though, the salad! ;)

Laura Marie Meyers said... [Reply to comment]

@AM Well thaaat's awfully nice of you to say... thank you so much :)

Lauren Allen said... [Reply to comment]

So beautifully written Laura! Love it so much!

mar042 said... [Reply to comment]

Obviously, I HAVE LOVED ALL OF YOUR POSTS, but this one hits very close to home for me!! You had me smiling, laughing and sobbing - one thing right after another. You have taken the feelings i have always had and given a voice to them that I never could. Thank you!! (notice i typed in all little letter to show i can love quietly) L, <><> M

Diana said... [Reply to comment]

Wow. This was such an inspiring post. I've been following your blog for a while now and this post has just made me come out of lurking. Thank you for sharing this.

ps. I love Olive Garden too. Unlimited salad, soups and breadsticks for lunch? Sign me up. ;)