This is something I’ve needed and wanted and mucked things up to find.
… A piece of myself that isn’t pretty but also isn’t anything to fear. I looked it head on, and while my methods seem brutal now in hindsight I’m almost certain it couldn’t have been dealt with any other way.
I had to lash out until I just didn’t need to anymore. There’s a wound inside me that makes me sad and depresses me and guides all of my behaviors, and addictions, and personas and it’s related to the general separation anxiety each of our psyches suffered once our infant egos realized we were not actually one with our mothers.
Anyway, in the midst of arguing with someone, yet revealing no details on my illusory feelings of betrayal, I realized that it didn’t matter and I didn’t care anymore. Whereas just days ago I had cared very, very much.
I had been wound so tightly in my anger, bitterness, and resentment that I would not be deterred from those feelings until I confronted my target. And, unfortunately, almost terribly even, my intended target was not the rightful recipient of my fury.
I needed to fight – not a person, but my own misconception that I was entitled anything from anyone, for any reason attached to my own sense of identity. I had to fight the weight of the emotional and mental shackles which bound me to false sense of rightness, and inaccurate vengeance against a no longer relevant offense.
I’ve felt abandoned and discarded and alone and unloved for so long, and maybe all of those feelings, for their time, were valid. But also maybe so what?
I just couldn’t see the so what part because I was gripping those awful – and true for a time – feelings weighing me down. I’d held onto them because of that thing where it gets like feeling bad feels good, and if it wasn’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all. Which isnt entirely true for me because I’ve had my share of good luck turns. And I remain grateful for them, if also sometimes partially blind.
Sometimes, you just get accustomed to feeling a certain way, and believing certain things. It’s almost like you need to believe because you don’t know what else to believe, and we all want something to believe.
And so there I was confronting this young woman for battle scars she hadn’t given me, but which she’d unknowingly assisted in bringing to the surface. Whether or not she told the truth, and whether or not I believed her was inconsequential to me once it clicked:
The world, while truly terrible in so many ways, is not in fact out to get me. Also, the world (or its sometimes truly awful inhabitants) owes me nothing. And I do not need to waste my life fighting petty battles.
Except, I had to actualize the battle to learn the lesson. I was not above it until i was inside it. I had to learn that I must speak up in the moment because there is nothing to lose either way, except only the energy spent brooding and stewing in resentment. I had to learn to either say it now or let it float along for good, and continue to float along myself.
I had to learn also, to give into the adrenaline and stand firm in the storm it yields regardless. If you’re going to make a mess, you’d better be able to look at what you’ve done.
This life really is something else.