Thanks For The Memories.

So, Facebook reminded me of something the other day. You know, like an event. Your immediate reaction might be like “what the fuck is Facebook?” or “who uses Facebook anymore?” Or you might be like “oh I LUURRVE when Facebook reminds me of my fabulous life events!” Or maybe you start to sweat thinking about all of the memories that you could do without that Facebook insists on throwing in your face on a regular basis. Whatever your reaction, I can share mine with you or I will share mine with you. I was panic stricken. Yessiree bob. I was extremely unhappy in that very moment and quite frankly, shocked by the myriad of emotions that the reminder stirred in me.

Of course I have to tell you what the reminder was or this entire post will hold no weight whatsoever. Facebook reminded me that exactly one year ago I was heading off to climb the Swiss Alps. Super fucking awesome memory, right? Well, not so much. Don’t get me wrong as my trip was amazing. Truly. It was life changing in so many ways and I am beyond grateful that I had that experience. However, that period of my life was a tumultuous one to say the least. One year ago I was still reeling from the reality that my significant other of five years had lied to me, cheated on me, left me, strung me along, and gotten married to someone else, in that exact order. I was struggling with the concept of putting my life back together and wondering how I was going to get back to ‘okay,’ forget good.

It is true that at that time there was a glimmer of light at the end of my “tunnel” but it was tiny and seemed really far away and I didn’t quite have the tools to make it bigger or closer or even obtainable. I was in therapy, and “doing the work,” and still enjoying the good stuff in my life to the best of my ability (or at least going through the motions) but there was a giant gaping hole in my heart and I didn’t yet have faith that I was going to be able to close it.

The Facebook reminder was like a time travel device that I desperately did not want to board. It instantly transported me back to a place where I felt despondent, heart broken, hopeless, distrustful, resentful, sad, rejected, and angry. If I am completely honest, which you know by now I am, it also made me more patently aware of certain unhealthy and/or unnecessary behaviors that I am exhibiting today (one year later). I can talk all tough about the healthy place that I’ve gotten to and for the most part it’s true, but I am still fighting an ingrained social paradigm. I am still, from time to time, reverting back to the bad habits that took me to such a bad place to begin with.

I’ve talked many times about the concept of accountability. I’ve spoken to this idea that we have to accept our role in the things that happen to us. Sometimes it is more obvious and sometimes less obvious. I am not saying that you did something to warrant any and every annoying or bad thing that happens to you. I am merely saying that when it comes to relationships, it usually takes two to tango and it behooves us to get to the bottom of it all.

I knew that I ignored the warning signs and red flags, trusted too much, loved too hard, and tried to consistently fit a square peg into a round hole. However when I look back at that time in my life, I have a hard time immediately conjuring up peaceful resignation. Instead I am frustrated and confused. I am also fearful. What if things never change? What if I am always destined to be punished for all of the mistakes I made as a younger person? Along the same lines, what if I am pre-determined to repeat my bad decisions over and over again, ad infinitum?

I don’t necessarily wholeheartedly believe any of this when I stop and think for more than five minutes, but it is what immediately ran through my head at the time that damn reminder popped up. There was also this ludicrous but ever pervasive thought that I was alone in my misery. That is to say that my ex had curated a brand-spanking, shiny new life and I was still getting gut punched. I want to be clear that the emotional doubling over was/is not a result of missing him or our life together. To the contrary, I can’t believe how much time was invested. Not just in the relationship itself but in the aftermath. And no, I don’t mean the healing, I mean the permitting of the dragging along. I mean the pathetic hoping and praying and shutting my eyes to actual reality.

On one hand I’m like high five, clapping hands emoji…you’ve come SO far in just a year. On the other hand, I can’t believe it had only been a year. In the best and worst way possible, this year has seemed like an eternity. I’ve gotten my shit together and had some pretty amazing adventures. I’ve grown a ton (I mean like I’m still 4’11.5” but emotionally, a giant) and I have a pretty good understanding of what I want and what I need. And yet sometimes I feel like I haven’t come far enough. I haven’t gotten close enough to where I really want to be. I haven’t put enough space between my heart and the emotional trauma that I suffered. I still have to tell the story and/or explain myself when I run into people that I haven’t seen in a while. I mean the short-hand version of the story, but a reciting nonetheless.

Here is the truth of the matter: our lives are marked by milestones, good and bad. You heard it here first (or maybe not). We catalog events in our lives and we use those markers as reference points for all of eternity. We again and again discuss and revert back to the stories of our first jobs, first loves, first heartbreaks, loss of virginity, first driving experience, first ‘oops I’m wastie’ experience, and so on and so forth. The events in our lives don’t just shape or define us; they create a construct we essentially live within for our whole lives. Our stories become who we are and vice versa.

That begs the question as to whether we have the power or ability to shape our story outside that which life presents to us. I don’t mean controlling our reactions to things that happen either. I mean actually figuring out a way to make certain things not matter or perhaps just matter less.

Can you imagine someone asking about your last relationship and you responding “yeah, it was a five year roller coaster, good times and bad, and I learned a ton about myself”? Oh, and that’s it. That’s all you say. You don’t elaborate; you don’t share your tale of woe or try and drum up sympathy. You simply look at the other person and tell them that you are a better person today for having gone through some shit and then you smile.

What Facebook did for me is it made me realize that I don’t want to be defined by the things that have happened to me or the relationships that I have had. This is not because they have all been horrible (although my relationships were mostly a disaster), but rather because I want to define me. I want to determine the path that I walk, the people I welcome in, the way the world impacts me, and how I feel about it all. Have you ever witnessed a kid falling? Just before the child has a chance to react, their parents are all goofily jumping around going “you’re fine!” “you are just a little scared” “no boo boos here”. They are attempting to shape the kid’s experience before the pain sensors in the brain kick in and the emotional synapses run on overload. They are telling the child that the pain that they may feel is predominantly the shock of ____________ and exclusively pain.

On some level this seems deceptive, but in reality it is brilliant. Why can’t we do this for ourselves? I know this sounds like faking it until you make it and I suppose there is some element of that embedded here. But, what it really is above all else is giving yourself the pep talk you need to get through shit and not be defined by it.

I have friends that tell me all the time that they have no choice but to be defined by the things that have happened to them. I also have friends that have risen above the direst of circumstances (abuse, abandonment, neglect, and so on) and had the most beautiful lives. And no, I don’t mean that they are all married with children, a house with a white picket fence, and a great and satisfying job with benefits. I mean they’ve gotten to good. I mean they don’t introduce their tale within a few moments of meeting them, or sometimes ever. I’m telling you that my shit PALES in comparison to what some of these folks have endured and yet, they have. They have been resilient and courageous and joyful. They have persisted under the absolute shittiest situations that this life has to offer.  What’s my point here? Well, I know some pretty fucking awesome people. Also, it is a choice. You cannot always choose what is tossed your way, but you can always choose how it defines (or doesn’t) you and your life.

This is what implementation of that choice looks like: When Facebook reminds me of how my life shattered a bit a year ago, I get to tell myself that I went to Switzerland BY MYSELF and hiked 90 miles through the Alps BY MYSELF, and I did that because I knew that my life felt a little sad at that moment but that in the greater scheme of things, I would not be irreparably broken by this one event. I am braver and stronger and the rejection I suffered does not make me undesirable as a human.

I am not suggesting that you reject every bit of memory that you possess. In fact, I would invite you to celebrate and relish all of your life events, big and small, happy and sad. I encourage you to learn from what you’ve endured not to self-criticize but to grow.  I am saying that you have control over which of those events are more or less important. You get to determine what those events mean to you, and thus, what they mean to the people who pass in and out of your life.  You get to choose whether to share the memory or hide it. This does NOT mean running from your history or being ashamed of it, at all. This simply means that you should extrapolate the stuff that is the real deal and discard the rest. You don’t have to feel burdened by your milestones or lack thereof. You are not an experiment whereas your life exists as some grandiose comparison against the rest of humanity. You are your own person with your own feelings and your own successes.

At the end of the day, I get to look at that one painful memory (and maybe others) and tell myself that I am okay. It wasn’t all pain that I felt, it was mostly just the shock of it all, and I AM okay. You get it? Good. I thought so.

Until the next…

L.