A different direction.

Hey, remember when you were my confidant? The relief of true friendship we found in one another made me feel less broken. Suddenly, my track record of short-lived friendships was rendered obsolete. We shared a real connection, my dear. With love of our common god to base us, we carried forth our conversations over impassioned environmental concerns, shared DIY tips, staggered through the learning curves of cooking for our allergy-ridden children, loved vintage thrifting, and tried to let go the burden placed on each of our hearts for the peers who would not, or could not accept or understand us. I found solace in you - a place that I felt real.

I remember the night, my former confidant, when I fearfully confessed my doubts, and you were so worried about your spouse’s. I tried to give you insight, and you tried to give me support, yet somewhere along the discourse, we slightly missed our marks. Or maybe you dodged, not ready to take in all that I was throwing at you? I can’t complain that you’ve ever judged me, but I feel the weight of your loss of the former me. You swore we’d still be friends, that it wouldn’t change anything. I didn’t believe you, and I didn’t want to, because I desperately wanted you to see my new reality, and join me. I wanted you to change, with me.

It’s different now. You are still so lovely and kind, a truehearted soul. But, I don’t believe in souls anymore, so where does that leave us? What are we based on, now? You won’t follow my reasoning, and I won’t return to your faith. We now walk along much different paths, and I can’t see many crossovers. There is a quiet yearning, from each of us, to follow the other. I cannot, and you will not. Shall we walk alongside one another, our ways slowly leading away from each other? I take more comfort in that, then the sharp turn of simply walking away. Let’s draw this out, for as long as we can, while we both faintly, futilely hope for our roads to intersect once more.

How to be a person.

Step one: Forget everything you think you know. Develop strong critical thinking skills and rational thought.

Step two: Change every single aspect of your life. Right now – as in, this very instant. Repeat as necessary.

Step three: Submit to overwhelming anxiety as your life choices affect those around you.

Step four: Increase your alcohol consumption and offset with increased coffee intake. Balance in all things.

Step five: Fall madly in love, while doubting yourself completely. Do it anyway.

Step six: Become financially independent. A good way to do this is to get a job.

Step seven: Be profoundly happy. It’s not selfish.

Step eight: Be incredibly lonely. It’s just a feeling.

Step nine: Be mindfully present. Nothing is forever, except for right now.

Step ten: Be completely yourself.

Congratulations! You’re human. Good luck with that.

At the end of today.

I'm in bed, internet surfing, listening to Broken Social Scene, exhausted, glad to be home; so ends my day. It was beyond satisfying to walk away from the house with a completed sod job. The past week, of near daily yard prep work, has given me ample time for retrospection. It was a bit too easy, and too simple, to slip into the thought pattern (as I hacked away at 4 foot tall weeds, with tree-like tenacity) that I was suffering the consequence of choosing you. In my actual moment of choosing you - that choice was actually me, choosing myself, and accepting all the consequences that would follow. Therefore, I fully accept this lawn care, this tearing out and starting over, destroying and rebuilding, release and completion. I accept that my choices have lead me to this day of exhaustion, and several other days of fearful tears, harsh words falling on my ears, and my own centred presence to belay my fears. Your gentle strength has also carried me through. I would be remiss to pretend otherwise. 

If to build a house, and let it go, is to be a metaphor for the change I have created in my life, I would say that I have carefully built myself to be something I am not, over several years, and suddenly, I have let that person go, quite quickly. What now, is my home? Who am I, to house myself? Too oft I forget I already know the answer - I am enough for myself, something I was taught against my whole life. This paradigm shift has been quite startling, and quite freeing, to learn. 

I'm rebuilding, tearing out the murky thoughts that harbour my fears and insecurities. I'm making a clearing, to settle my mind. Mental landscaping, cultivating truth, beauty, and freedom, as I weed out all doubt. Inner architecture, reframing my mind. All that's left is what's real, and what's really me. 

This. This is a home worth living in. I shall stay here, for the rest of my days. 

Goodbye to me

I no longer exist. I used to be me and now I am myself. There is no going back. 

Do I miss her, you may ask? Certainly you can miss who you were, but doesn't that imply regret? Do I miss her? My simple answer would be no, but thoughtful answers are rarely simple. I do not miss her powerlessness. I do not miss her helplessness, her overwhelming craving for acceptance and belonging at the expense of contorting herself into a broken bent form in order to fit into her imagined expectations and conditions to be loved by her family and to be worthy of her god's acceptance. I do not miss her trusting naivety, her submission to another's depravity. In an elementary way, I miss her hope for a better performance next time if she could only speak the correct words with perfect cadence in order to convey her overwhelming pure love and drowning sorrow and have it be revelatory to the ears and hearts and minds of those she aimed her careful truths to. But, I also do not miss this (her hopeless hope). It is far better to save the careful words for the ears that will hear, hearts that will heal, and minds that will share. 

Perhaps then, I don't miss her. That sounds so unfair to her though. I don't want to be unkind, she had real intent and she did the very best she could, given the circumstances. I feel her only fault was not knowing that she was enough. Even that flaw cannot be her label to own, it was given to her at a very young age. She practiced it diligently; she laid her soul out for scorching while other's looked down, radiating their scorn or shame or fear. It took a long time for her to understand those feelings weren't hers to own, they were burned into her for so long they left scars running deep. It was hard to imagine they were ever not there. For a lifetime she believed they were self-inflicted. How marvellous and terrifying to realize the damage was done by someone else!

This knowledge and understanding was ultimately her undoing. Previously, her only hope for survival was verification from the ones who shunned her. It came as a surprise to learn that their approval was not necessary to nourish her. Once she learned the truth, her existence was futile. She no longer needed to be who she was. 

No, I do not miss her, but I am thankful for all that she taught me. Now I am enough for myself. For this I am grateful.