Well hi there. Happy hump day. Does it still feel like a hump day for you? With everything else going on, are you losing the sensation of beginning-mid-and week-ends? I am. I mean, I am very conscious of the days on one hand, but on the other hand…not so much. Time seems to be flying by. I honestly cannot believe that we are creeping up on August. It’s absolute insanity.
Speaking of time flying by, I can’t believe it is almost two years since I said my final goodbye to the ex that inspired (that is a more generous word that I feel the situation deserves, but what the fuck, right?) this blog, this book, these changes I have made and I am trying to make. I cannot believe how much time has passed but you know what? That passage of time was so necessary. I still have so much work to do, so I’m glad that there is time stretched in front of me, god willing. But, I also needed that time I was given to heal, revisit, trip-up, reconsider, cry, yell at the universe, and so on.
I am going to keep with my same instinct to make these intros brief but that/this is an important point. Sometimes we are in such a rush to feel better that we don’t care to give ourselves the time we need to move through something. You can leap frog over situations, for sure, but at the end of the day, you’ll end up where you started from. I guarantee it. You’ll exhibit the same patterns. You’ll commit the same wrongdoings, choose the same people who are wrong for you, and invite in unnecessary, repetitive pain. I promise you that.
The time it takes to heal is brutal, inconsistent, unpredictable. But you know what? You need to take that time, however long it is for you. You need to work shit out and work it through. If you ignore what you need to do and just move onto the next, good fucking luck. Life is going to be bumpy. For a long time. Maybe forever. Just saying. Here goes nothing…
Chapter 2
It’s a beautiful lie
It’s a perfect denial
Such a beautiful lie to believe in
So beautiful, beautiful
Thirty Seconds to Mars,
“A Beautiful Lie”
On some level I’ve always been fundamentally afraid of commitment. There are so many reasons for this fear, some rational and some not. Interestingly, the ability to admit this fear came later or even too late one might say. Apparently, I needed to reflect on a life turned inside-out and upside-down to recognize this particular aversion. I can now admit that I am afraid of being controlled and squished, just as I am afraid of being left. I am afraid of someone getting too close but I also fear them retreating. Since I was unable to admit this fear for so long, I resorted to incredibly damaging behavior as a coping strategy. I self-handicapped and self-sabotaged. I could have explored my trust issues and desperate need for independence, but I didn’t. I self-destructed in the most spectacular way possible. Every. Single. Time.
The most challenging or difficult part of this paradigm or cycle is that following an epic implosion, I often sought to fix the damage I had done. I would panic over the thought of the injury I had caused and I would try, in vain, to correct the wrong that had been done. I never quite recognized that the right partner for me would stop the spiral before it reached its peak. I didn’t understand that a healthy counterpart would call me on my nonsense or would try to address the post-disaster melt-down in a way that cultivated greater emotional health, not less. Over the years I had refined these skills to a level that was patently disturbing. My eventual destruction was undetectable in the beginning and impossible to mitigate in the end. I was a creator of turmoil and a recipient of all the emotional baggage that comes with such a tactic. I had no idea that I had met my match and then once I realized, when it was too late, I felt like I deserved every bit of havoc that came my way.
Chapter 3
Fade me away, I won’t ever be the same
Fade me away, I won’t ever be the same
Fade me away, I won’t ever be the same
Novo Amor,
“Carry You”
I was raised to be a free-thinking, assertive, and strong woman. However, I also grew up in a society that reinforces that it is indeed most beneficial to like what everyone else likes. This dichotomy has waged a war inside of me for as long as I can remember. I ultimately decided it was best to just mesh because, well, it was just more stress-free all around. I pursued my passions but I did so almost apologetically and as unoffensively as possible. I made myself as small as possible so as to not challenge the bigness of others. I shrunk down so much and so often that I forgot what it was like to stand tall. I forgot what it felt like to not to ask for forgiveness at each and every turn.
What was perhaps the most shocking part of this decision and the resulting behavior is how easy it all was. What seems like a huge leap to a world that is far more diminished and quieter is actually a series of unobtrusive baby steps. Each step that is taken, on tiptoes, brings you closer to invisibility and that much closer to oblivion. I could not exactly recall all the ways in which I began to disappear; only that it decidedly happened. I can only remember waking up one day and feeling like I barely mattered at all. The world felt so very big and I felt so very small.
END OF BOOK EXCERPT.
Do you see my point now? I was a liar. I lied. I was a weak-willed, scared human. I cowered. I couldn’t have admitted that two years ago. I wouldn’t have wanted to. I just wanted to be sad. I wanted to feel sorry for myself. I wanted to blame HIM. I wanted to blame the universe. I wanted to blame myself but in that generic, “I hate me” kind of way that solves nothing. You see what I mean? But I took the time. I learned. I grew (well I’m still short as fuck, but I grew emotionally). And I also gained the capacity to revisit and reconsider AGAIN. When I fall off the rails, and I do because I’m human, I know how to reset. That’s pretty fucking cool. I know when to call for help. I know when to take a step back. I know when to surrender. That’s the beauty of giving shit time.
Trust me on this one.
Talk to you tomorrow.
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 