It’s not to tell an imaginary story or to string together some lines of amazing poetry. I write to remember. To get the crazies out without throwing them out at some innocent. I write to show my future self that I have grown from where I thought I could never. That evolution happens. And when I’m in a better place, I oftentimes can’t even go back to the things I’ve written, or worse (better?), I don’t even recognize the voice behind the words. I do this to prove that I’ve been here before and conquered it. I’ve been through worse and have persevered. I’ve had better and shouldn’t settle. I’ve felt raw emotion and haven’t become numb. And I write to remind myself that I haven’t just fallen into this ridiculous obsession with love. It’s always been here, the trepidation then intrigue, excitement then fear, resolve then rejection. The abandonment whether real or perceived. The strength to keep going. And the secret me that got through it all without anyone else knowing. I write to remind myself I’m human and beyond my super confident exterior, I’m little more than a vulnerable silly, gullible girl who keeps searching for her ideal replica of the father who left her so young. Would I even know if I found him? That’s the big joke, I guess. Probably shouldn’t have said that.
I know I shouldn’t say this, but sometimes when you have SO much going on in your head it’s just easier to let your fingers to the walking. My wrist gets tired and I have too much in here! It needs to get out! And writing out my crazies is MUCH better than the destructive behaviors I WANT to imbibe in.
I find it interesting how many people tend to go through transition periods at the same time. And for whatever reason, I’m the first to know about it, or the one they come running to when things get overwhelming. I know I’ve said this before. And just when I think, damn I need a hobby to get out of this funk I’m in… BAM! Here comes someone in a transition period and I’m asked to help, to listen, to advise, to make sense, to justify, to counsel, and sometimes, just sit. It’s happening again and I’m so grateful for it, in the most bizarre sense. I am able to concentrate on other people’s problems instead of honing in on my own, thus giving some time and space for my own crises to heal and therefore giving my brain some much needed rest.
[insert lots of examples of people reaching out for guidance]
My point is, people are transitioning right now. And I feel it’s when I’m needed most. Regardless of how much time has gone by, the things I have felt, the emotions and anger or resentment I cycled through. This is my hobby. This is what makes me feel important. This is what makes me feel needed and confided in and trusted. No, they won’t always need me. Eventually they will be happy again and I’ll be pushed aside.
One thing that occurred to me today is the fact that I’m really happy when I’m single. I have no expectations, I’m not waiting for anyone to call or text, I’m not hoping someone will make plans, then feeling disappointed when they don’t. It’s just me and the girls, doing whatever we do, without anyone making me feel insignificant and unimportant, whether intentional or not.
What scares me… what drives me to panic, is the fear of abandonment. The slow progression of feeling someone slip away. The intensity that gradually starts to wane. The one word responses, if any at all. The fear that I’ve done something to incite this change. The self-abuse. The negative thoughts. The insecurities that creep in. All of that. That’s what scares me. That’s what I fear. My biggest. I’m ok once I’ve lost it. The actions leading up to the loss… that’s what kills me. The disappointment. Then reminding myself that I KNEW this would happen, then trying to rebuild my esteem and getting back to the place I was before the loss occurred. Easier to just avoid it right? Of course. However I’m such a sucker for a good love story that I put myself through the same dog and pony show over and over and over. One day, I know it’ll pay off. For now, I must continue being the strong person everyone else perceives me to be. By modeling that behavior, you become it. You incite change amongst others without lifting a finger. Yes it’s hard. It can be the most grueling kind of pain, but once it’s been overcome, I’m stronger for it.
So I’m grateful for the transition periods. I really am. They keep me alive and positive. Hopeful and optimistic. Without their evolution, I don’t think I’d be the person I am today. As silly as that sounds.