Time, at last.
After everything, all the contemplation,
all the mental discussion,
all the internal whirl pools, I’m leaving.
Something I’ve always known about myself, yet only just started to truly grasp is how far my rubber band can stretch before it rebounds back and whacks me in the face. That stretch has really surprised me. I’ve pushed myself through mental barriers I never, ever, thought I could tackle. But now, I’ve finally broken. Now, I’ve 100% dragged myself through enough dirt, to finally let that rubber band break and whack me so damn hard, that there’s simply zero way of hiding the scar. Realising after all this time I’ve done a full circle to simply end up back where I started. With me, myself, and I. Has it all been a waste of time? Certainly not! Does it feel like it’s been a waste of time? Certainly YES!
Where does this story start? Well, love. You guessed it.
I’ve always been a giver (in my opinion). I’ve made the questionable decision to forever wear my heart on my sleeve and with that has come a lot, more than a lot actually, of hurt. Yet the part I’ve always carried with me is the lessons. Now that I’m a touch older, having really challenged myself to be better than I was yesterday in every loving relationship I’ve experienced, I’m now seeing the patterns. These patterns are somewhat… well, downfalls of mine. They’re the broken parts of me that decide to stay with people who hurt me, the parts that believe this is as good as it can possibly get, the parts that are too fearful to walk away out of the sheer insecurity that I could be running, not walking… You see, my mother taught me a few very valuable things when I was growing up, one of them being to always give 110% until you’re given a very fucking great reason not to. Now I’ll admit, I’ve most certainly followed this rule! But to what degree will I continue to put myself in the fire until I’m burnt to the point I have nothing left for myself? That’s why I’m here, tonight, writing this. To try uncover exactly what it is I’m ACTUALLY afraid of, to attempt to understand exactly where that line in the sand needs to be drawn for my future relationships.
So here we are. Let’s begin here, now, age twenty six, living in the heart of Takapuna in a seemingly normal yet wonderful life. What are the mishaps? What is not working here? Firstly, I’ve been in a very tumultuous relationship with myself for I’d say… well, good part (here and there) of a year. Where did this stem from? Easy… my self worth. You see I’ve spent a fuck ton of time trying to be someone for everyone. I’m talking meaningless encounters, to life long friendships, one night flings, my family and most importantly myself.
I thought by being the person everyone wanted me to be,
would make me the person I wanted to be
I thought by playing the part, having the fancy facade, owning the successful business, having so many friends I couldn’t even make time for, going to all the events… all of this ‘stuff’ would prove my worth. That THEN I would be proud of myself. That THEN I would be successful. That THEN I would be in a seamless loving relationship. I thought if I was who they wanted me to be that I’d finally be enough. Well guess what, I was shit the fuck outta luck. Because I’m now miserable and more lost than I ever have been, as all I did was let everyone walk… well, stomp! All over me. I basically got trampled, yet willingly and when you think about it… that’s pretty damn sad.
In eat pray love, Julia Roberts discovers that through all the madness, she was searching for herself. That all the crazy shit she had to go through was an awakening of her soul. Well yea, I think I’m playing a bit of a J.R. card here because I’m about to really fuck shit up, yet for the first time in a really long fucking time I’m actually doing it FOR MYSELF. And that, that right there is how I know that I’m not running, in fact it’s quite the opposite,
I’m seeking.
So what broke?
I wish I could sugar coat this story to make it somehow more thrilling yet I cannot lie and the simple truth is, as mentioned earlier, I broke because of love. As cliche it may be, it was in fact love. I gave and gave and gave, from every last little drop I had left. I did absolutely everything in my power to hold our shit together when all else around the both of us was falling like a land slide. I listened, I adapted, I unconditionally loved through some shit I now realise I really shouldn’t have put up with, until reaching the point of what feels like no return. If I didn’t create change, I was going to walk into my future knowing I’d forever be the broken one, knowing that no matter how hard I tried, I would never have the capability to patch up the hole in our trust that got so wildly broken. Now as innocent I may sound in all this, don’t be fooled as it always takes two to tango. I have been no saint. I have certainly added to the mishap and chaos to cause this rubber band to break, yet have I done anything wrong? No. It was simply the cause of action eating away at time we both thought we had left to step up to the challenge, until we collectively got pushed so far and hit with the heartbreaking realisation that we might not have the capability to bounce back, no matter how much we so desperately wanted to, because something had to change in order to move us forward again.
You know when you’re playing Jenga and you start with a tall and strong foundation? That’s where I started, naive enough to believe that a few Jenga blocks could be pulled out without un-stabilising the beautiful tower I had built. Naive because I didn’t understand how the game of Jenga (life) really worked. Coming to realise that people will tug at your building blocks if you let them, take what they need and run into the wind without even noticing that they’ve taken more than you had to give. Each seemingly insignificant experience is another block being removed from your safe and sound structure. Slowly, you crash to the ground with the thud of a reality check when you look at all your broken blocks, knowing how much time, patience, determination and delicacy it will take for you to re-build that foundation again.
“Why does it hurt so bad? I’m not sure I understand” they ask… Because I have to pick up those blocks, with every last tiny drop of hope I have left in my body and find a way to re-build this tower. No one is there to help me when I fall, only take from me when I’m strong. No one will help me re-build that tower, it’s on me, myself and I. Thats why it hurts so bad, because they don’t love me enough to realise that in the first place.
So, what the fuck am I gonna do about it?
I’m going to quietly walk away, remove myself from the danger zone and head in the direction I desire, I deserve and I whole heartedly want.
For the first time ever, I’m not going to let anyone hold me back, talk me out of it, tell me it won’t work, remind me what I’m leaving behind…
I’m going to eat pray love the shit out of my life, rebuild my Jenga tower and be more aware of my past cycles than ever before. I will work hard to not repeat patterns, call for help and cry out for love and praise. I’m going to figure out what I NEED to fall head over heels, in love, with myself. I’m going to walk not run, as what is due to stay in my life, will be there for me when I get back… the same way I was for those who left me. Because that’s unconditional love.
All the rest? Well… fuck it.
As time passes, we very abruptly conclude that it all meant so little,
with the most weighted illusion cast over it.
That all the crap they said makes you worthy, actually means nothing.
Until it comes from you, it will always mean nothing.