My Narrative Needs To Change

It’s like I can see myself reacting and behaving and there’s nothing I can do about it.  I even have a post IT saying, “Restraint of tongue and pen” and … it is not fail proof.  Nothing is, I guess, when you’re truly human.

 

Human amidst a pandemic that is ongoing.  Human amidst the dreariest, darkest, coldest time of the year (no matter how prepared I try to make myself; I am still not immune to the darkness and gray that can be wintertime, with or without weather).  Human amidst other humans.  We are all tired.  We are all somewhat distracted.  We are all digitally overwhelmed and confused.

 

And that’s where my narrative needs to change.  What if we aren’t tired?  What if winter isn’t the worst time of the year?  What if we aren’t overwhelmed, confused or distracted?  What if I’m just placing blame to place blame to avoid having to sit with myself and my discomfort?

 

What I really am is disappointed – in myself.  I am disappointed that I am not more spiritually elevated.  I am disappointed that I am not more poised with my ability to always pause.  I am disappointed that I am not perfect, that I still react despite my best efforts and that I am so emotionally fragile and sensitive no matter how many layers I put on to protect myself.

 

Recently, I’ve been writing and observing the many ways in which I try to control.  I don’t often say things I don’t mean, but I do say things at the wrong time and for the wrong reason at times, even if at some point and somewhere I do mean them.  It seems that I desperately want you to tell me that I am good enough, doing a good job (great, actually) and that you are proud of me.  Because I can’t sit with myself and do that in my own time.  It seems that I desperately want you to wrap me up in a cocoon of safety, promising me that I won’t have to hurt from life’s trials if I just do X, Y and Z.  Because I can’t sit with myself and do that for me – I want you to do it for me.

 

I want you to fall in line with my story: that if I hustle hard enough, you will always see me.  That if I prove my enoughness, my worthiness, my lack of frailty and imperfection, I will not hurt.  I will not disappoint.  I will not …

 

Be human.  That’s my story; and it’s looking like it may not be remotely true.  As it turns out, even when I do X, Y and Z – X again, I am still not immune to life on life’s terms.  As it turns out, I still feel things.  As it turns out, I still take them personally.  And I can still be super sensitive, with or without your help.  I still can’t control my mom’s MS.  I still can’t control whether or not you want to do business with me now, or later, or never.  I still can’t control God’s timeline, choices for me, or opportunities I don’t always recognize as opportunities.  I still can’t control my narrative that I’ve adopted for so many years … until now.

 

Because now I can hear it.  Because now I can feel it.  Because now it feels … gross, and like it no longer works for me.  Like it no longer serves as protection, but instead continues to place me in a position to be hurt – by myself.

 

What if …

 

2020 isn’t hard?

 

What if …

 

Living with someone isn’t hard?

 

What if …

 

It’s just different?

 

What if …

 

Living with me is hard?  Like, me living with me.

 

What if …

 

He really does love me?

 

What if …

 

I started to look for the ways in which that’s always true?

 

 

What if …

 

Everything I thought I knew, is wrong?

 

What if …

 

I don’t have to be afraid of losing what I already have?

 

What if …

 

I don’t have to be afraid of not getting what I want?

What if …

 

I just have to change my narrative?

 

What if …

 

You just did, too.

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