For reasons unbenounced to me, I had myself convinced that the only things left to let go of were current energies, not past ones. I admittedly preach to myself and all of my loved ones that being patient with oneself is the most important habit to form. My standards for myself are growing more and more possible each day that I continue this journey – though to be honest, I’m not quite sure how much of a choice it is at this point. Some days I want to quit everything and disappear from the life I know. Other days I’m in awe of how much I’ve accomplished that it almost seems like it’s all just a dream.
In 19 days it will have been exactly a year that I broke up with Yin. Up until right this second, I didn’t quite realize just how difficult it would be to emotionally release worn out patterns and feelings you had for someone you spent four influental years of your life growing with. Some days were better than others. Some days I loved him and some days I didn’t. Some days I knew who I was and other days I didn’t. Those experiences become a part of you and I will never deny that. Our relationship was one of the many stepping stones that led me here and for that he will always be a part of my story.
So since being honest is the promise I made to myself the day I started this adventure, I’m going to admit a whole bunch of other shit right now that I’ve been ashamed of and have refused to accept until today…
I have never physically cheated on anyone I have ever dated, but I have emotionally cheated on almost every one – including Yin. It breaks my heart to type that in writing because it makes me feel like I’m a horrible human being. It wasn’t something I planned. Though deep down, I always knew that no one else would or could ever be my rock, so why the fuck did I continue to find myself in these situations where I let people fall in love with me knowing I would never be their tide. Was I some sort of hypocritical asshole? Probably. Did I know it? Maybe a little bit. Have I forgiven myself? Yes and no.
My office became a storage space for all the feelings I wasn’t ready to let go of yet. The ones that make you drown in tears of confusion, guilt, resentment and loneliness. Ones that put baby in the corner. Reminders of all the times you held on when you knew you shouldn’t. All the times you lied to him and yourself. Neither one of us deserved to be in a relationship that settled like the pulp of stored orange juice.
Excerpt from my second to last letter ~ 10/10/2015
“I find it hard to love someone that always needs to have control – over situations, emotions, us, me, you, etc. I find it hard to tell myself we have a future when it’s never discussed, mentioned or addressed. I find it hard to believe I can trust you with my heart when you make me fight for your attention. I’m finding it hard to argue my doubts more and more these days that I almost feel like I’m convinced that this is all I deserve when I know I’m lying to my soul and so are you. I find it hard that this is all so hard. I want to believe in love, in what the future could hold, but your lack of passion for anything except your music leads me to believe deep down that I am not your future and never have been. I don’t know if something happened that made you stop growing with me or if I’m changing away from you and the evidence is piling up, but I can’t stop seeing it on the walls now. I’m too young to question what we’re doing here and too old to remain static in my growth.”
What a mirror life can be when we least expect it. It’s almost as if I was talking directly to all my fears and all my truths. I’ve hurt so many people on the way to my path – including myself and for years I was blissfully unaware of it. I was “innocent” because I didn’t believe that what was imbedded deep inside of me was my truth.
Here’s my truth summed the fuck up and tied with a bloody black bow: I grew up in a family of young parents, ripe with addiction. I was on my way to becoming one myself. I have always had mommy issues, so my grandmother became the closest thing I ever had to one. I was raped by the first boy I ever loved at the age of 16. I turned into a black hole, sucking the life out of everything and everyone around me. I met the love of my life when I was only 18 years old. I chased him, ran from him and chased him for over 12 years – almost half my damn life. I’ve been in only 3 serious relationships (not including my rock) with men who have been a mirror image of exactly how much I hated myself. I was abused, cheated on and broken down to all hell. I surrounded myself with equally destructive souls that made me feel less alone, but more dead inside. I reconnected with my rock at a time when neither of us could handle the dynamic of truly loving anything in this world. My grandfather died. My parents moved to Florida. My grandmother died. I lost a lot of family. My brother moved to florida. I moved into my very first apartment. I was still lost. I left my shit job for another shit job where no one would believe in me because I didn’t believe in myself. I had a massive anxiety attack. I realized I wasn’t happy, with anything or anyone. My eyes opened to the feathery bits of what this path would look like. Found out my rock was now in a relationship. I ended mine. My apartment became my own and I struggled to afford it. I made my celibacy committment and the committment to truly love myself. I spent almost an entire year dedicating my life to finding out who I was, what I believed in and how I wanted to feel when I woke up every day. I struggled, I cried, I screamed, I dreamed, I smiled, I danced, I ran, I wrote, I laughed, I hurt and I lived. I fell in love with myself. I fell in love with where I wanted to be in this world and who I wanted to share it with…so here I am, the tide. The waves of the ocean. The sound of the beach. A never-ending soul on it’s path to imperfect perfection.
There’s only one way out – and that’s in.