Hey, happy ‘this fucking week is almost over’, amiright? It’s been a week for me. A lot of trying conversations and challenges, professionally and personally. Part of my struggle lives well outside of me (think Home Depot corporate offices) and the other part lives deep inside of me. The clash between those external and internal elements came to a head today and I was meltdown central.
That’s the bad news. The good news? I had some pretty fantastic people at my fingertips and the ability to ask for help. Well, I have that now. I didn’t always. I mean hell, I don’t always. But I do right now and that’s what really matters, right? I didn’t get everything resolved but I emerged feeling calmer. Not necessarily hopeful that this is all going to easily work itself out, but confident that a resolution will present itself and I will deal with it, whatever that looks like.
The less optimistic part of me, the one that was fighting with me today told me that maybe I should skip over these particular excerpts today. Why? They are fucking brutal. I mean, all of my book is pretty tough for me. But, the two sections I am about to share with you, my kind readers, are particularly hard for me. You know why? Because I am struggling with the same damn issues RIGHT NOW. Yup. I know you probably don’t want to read that. You want to feel like I’m much further down on the path to worthy. I am. That’s why this time, when I felt that part of me rear its ugly head, I explored and tackled it sooner. I didn’t wait for it to take me down. I took the proverbial bull by its horns and said ‘not today mofo, not today.’
Since I’ve been challenged by these certain issues time and again, you will likely be familiar with the theme. I could say it in so many words or even quote myself back to you, but I am going to use someone else’s words of wisdom and insight bestowed upon me today. Ready?
I unbalance myself to accommodate others keeping themselves in balance (aka meeting people where they are, shrinking, etc.). Fuckkkk. I do though. It sucks and is a quality I like least about myself and yet I do it. The most difficult part about that quality is that it so seamlessly integrates with other bits of my personality that it is that much harder to pick out. It’s like pulling hair out of a woven scarf. If you’ve never done that, it’s like picking seeds out of grout. You may not have done that, but envision it. Little sesame or poppy seeds wedged between tiles, resting comfortably and in an entirely unavailable fashion. Good fucking luck. I suggest getting out the dust buster.
So, that’s what I’m doing. Unabashedly vacuuming the corners of my cluttered and struggling mind. Trying to understand why I could fill an auditorium with my regretted words of confrontation or explanation. Why I cannot get my heart to meet my rational mind when it comes to ‘if s/he doesn’t want to hear me out or accommodate me at all, s/he is not meant to be in my life.’ That always sounds good on paper. In real life? Hard. Really, really hard.
I’m willing to do the work though. More so when I look back on my words and remember where my self-betrayal took me. It wasn’t a destination I’d recommend. It was dark and stormy and filled with sadness and anger.
Okay, let’s do this….
Chapter 4
Help me, it’s like the walls are caving in
Sometimes I feel like giving up
But I just can’t
It isn’t in my blood
Shawn Mendes,
“In My Blood”
I don’t know if I was ever formally taught to make excuses for other people’s bad behavior or if it was part of some dysfunctional evolution. I didn’t used to discern between minor and major infractions. If someone else’s behavior or actions made me uncomfortable on any level I aggressively sought an understanding, even if that meant constructing such. I didn’t just reserve this act of generosity for significant others. I graciously extended this kindness to friends, lovers, and even co-workers. Whether or not they were seeking justifications was irrelevant to me. I willingly and gladly supplied validation at every turn.
The great irony is that this perpetual smoothing over of everything didn’t bring me any great comfort. To the contrary, I was potently aware of all the ways in which I was compromising or letting people off the hook that didn’t deserve my kindness. However, I just didn’t have the strength or resolve to diverge from this learned behavior. Well, not historically anyway.
Before I got to any place where I could begin to change this behavior, I had to determine that the harm outweighed the benefit by a wide margin. I had to take the risk that I would shake things up and piss people off. I had to be comfortable in some mild discomfort. I even had to be comfortable with some major discomfort. I had to learn to live there and keep breathing.
Chapter 5
It don’t matter to me
It don’t matter to me what you say
It don’t matter to me
It don’t matter to me what you say
Drake,
“Doesn’t Matter to Me”
I can barely breathe when I think of all the times I’ve choked on words I’ve never spoken, thoughts I’ve never voiced, and feelings I’ve never let come to fruition. In so many areas of my life I’m gregarious and even outspoken. I have solid opinions on most issues and I am not afraid to bring them to light and debate their merits with the strongest opponent. I don’t remember ever making a conscious decision to shrink. It just sort of happened. In fact, it happened quicker than I could have ever anticipated. I discovered that the transition from apologizing to holding back is lightning fast and absolutely devastating for one’s psyche. It is a spiral into hell that is quite unmatched by other emotional experiences.
The eggshells I tread on were seemingly made of glass and I was systematically shredded with each tiptoed step. For every item I bottled up, I lost an equivalent piece of my heart and soul. I would have thought anger would have resulted from all of the hesitation and holding back, but no. If I felt anything even close to fury, it was short lived and inevitably a circular reference back to self-flagellation. Perhaps if I was able to sustain my anger, I would have found a way to stand up for myself, to prevent my retreat. It is possible that with the properly channeled emotions I could have prevented the undoing that was just as much my fault as his.
END OF BOOK EXCERPT.
Yeah. That hurts. A lot. Living it hurt. Writing it hurt. Reading it hurts.
Here’s what you need to know. I choose to move away from pain and it IS a choice. We can’t choose what the universe dishes out to us. We can choose how we handle it. We can shape the relationships we have or don’t have. We can love ourselves enough to jump on, return to, and stay on the path to worthy.
Talk to you on Friyay.
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 