Man. It’s been a few weeks y’all. I have had my butt kicked from every direction. Financially, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. Sprinkle a little heartbreak into the mix and BAM! Shitty soufflé.
But you know what I’ve noticed? I don’t think of myself as less when things don’t go the way I wish. And I’m not sure if that’s just gradual maturity or growth from the wreck of the last 18 or so months of my life. It feels like a tidal wave rose up and crashed into my life, demolishing, drowning, and crushing everything is used to be. Things I had devoted time and energy into. People, relationships, and traditions. And I’m not even talking about my marriage. I mean other relationships. I lost deep rooted thoughts and feelings, beliefs, structure, ideas, and I still mourn the loss of those things. Just because they are gone and I can see the benefit of them leaving my life, doesn’t mean the hurt from their absence leaves too.
That’s one of the hardest things about getting your stuff together. That while you slowly detach yourself from the things that held you back, the weight of the loss of those things linger for far longer than you thought. Why do the things that I’m glad to be rid of still hurt?
As I type this blog up, I have the Folgers coffee slogan playing my head. You know the one. “The best part of waking up, is Folgers in your cup!”.
And it put a thought into my mind, which inspired me to write.
One of best parts of moving on is life is what you make it. Wanna be a top chef? Do it. Wanna learn to scuba dive? Do it. Wanna eat pray love with the kids during the summer?
THEN GO DO IT.
Like I stated in the beginning of this blog, my life’s been kicked around a lot. But like, a lot a lot. I am trying to do the work on myself. Which I’m not sure if you know, is hard. And then other things fall apart and I’m like ok, I guess I'll deal with that too. Soon, 7 other things fall apart and all of a sudden, I look like the guy in Green Eggs and Ham, trying to juggle all the ish in my life, telling stupid Sam I Am that I have enough stuff going on, I don’t need Green Eggs and Ham too. (Please tell me someone understands this reference!)
There’s a saying that I absolutely hate:
It is what it is.
Ugh.
To me, this is what people say when they don’t have an answer for things, which can happen, OR, they don’t want to take responsibility for a situation they find themselves in.
No Booboo, Life is what you make it.
So, if life’s what you make it, what am I making mine into? And the answer to that is….I’m not sure. But I do know what I’m not making into.
I’m not making it into a place that I’m a slave to my emotions. I’m not making it into a place that I have to hide my feelings either. I’m not making it into a place that I will wait around for anyone to choose me. I’m not making it a place that I hold space for people, friends, family, love interests or even a job that don’t see me as something to cherish and something that has immense value. To wait around for someone to see the value in me? Been there. Done that.
And it takes effort. Oh goodness, it takes effort. Habits and self loathing and resisting the urge to give in to the empty feeling I get when someone doesn’t choose me is hard. It hurts. When I’m expecting a text from someone and it never comes? Empty feeling. When I am at loss on how to manage my kids? Empty feeling. When I cant sleep at night due to the stress of circumstances outside of my control? Empty feeling. And I can’t help that these things hurt me. I’m a human. I can’t help that my heart gets broken if someone I care about doesn’t seem to care as much for me. But you know what I can do? I can realize that my value isnt diminished just because they don’t have the ability to see it. And it’s not my responsibility to prove my worth TO ANYONE.
There’s power in seeing the value in myself.
So if I had to sum up the best part of moving on, while I may of lost a chunk of my life in the last few months, I finally found myself. And maybe the parts that I no longer carry were cancer ridden limbs that caused sepsis and decay to the rest of me. It’s not that their losses weren’t big. Or that it wasnt hurtful. Or that I don’t miss them. But they no longer served me. Now I’m like a lizard amputee. Regrowing my limbs that I had to hack off myself. So I may be an amputee, but that doesn’t make me any less. And that, is the beauty of moving on.
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