I wanted to take some time to delve deeper into my last entry- break down each section into more detailed and constructed essays. I'll probably end up repeating some things but that's okay. Nothing wrong with a little refresher course.
Let's start with heartbreak. Instead of completely exhausting stories about the person that this particular topic was about, I'm going to focus more on the after effects of the whole thing and how I, individually, was shaped by it.
Yes, I did lose things and people and time; I'm not going to pretend like any of that was okay because it wasn't and I'm not thrilled about any of it. But the benefits that came out of it were infinitely rewarding.
I don't like the cliche thought of "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger". An individual person or event did not make me wake up one morning and consciously go, "I'm starting anew- fuck him, I'm going to live life for me!". Make no mistake- in a sense I did have to start completely over, specifically mentally and emotionally. But it wasn't one of those things where I started doing yoga and took up a new hobby and told myself affirmations in the mirror every morning. I did move to a new apartment and I did revel in the fact that I was now solely in charge of my Netflix queue, but otherwise everything was the same. Each morning I put on my same clothes and went to my same job and hung out with my same friends on the weekends. Still, I noticed a palpable shift in my approach to things. I stood up for myself more and I learned how to feel again. Until you've utterly and completely lost the ability to do that- to feel- you don't realize how difficult and scary it is to get that back. I told people that needed to fuck off to do just that. I embraced more deeply the people that deserved to be embraced. As cheesy as it sounds, I began to learn and accept the value of myself. There I was, rising from the ashes- a phoenix with a minuscule but exquisite rack- ready to take on the world. Well, not totally ready, but more willing to try it out than I ever had been before.
I just kind of let life happen. One day I would fall in love again and get married and buy a house and fill with with babies. One day I would see my past as just that- the past. One day I would know that no matter what, I was good enough and didn't deserve the things I had gone through. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that all of these things would eventually happen, and for the time ever I was prepared to just be patient.
Don't get me wrong- there were aspects to this that were hard. Having to rebuild yourself is confusing and weird, but I chose to look at it as an opportunity instead of a requirement (which in and of itself was a strange revelation, as I had dedicated most of my life to being a stone cold pessimist). Once I settled into that mindset everything because much easier. Dare I say, enjoyable at times. And for that, I quickly came to realize that I was one strong mother fucker.
Sure, there are lots of things that are still uncertain. I don't know if I'll ever find a job that I can be even somewhat content with. I don't know if I'll ever have enough money to buy that house for my phantom children. I don't know if I'll ever not have photos of my other dog all around me. But I do know that I will always have my friends, and my family, and my music. And son of a gun, I did end up finding that love that I've spent the last 30 years blindly stumbling towards.
But more on that later.
