When the sense of loss is indelible, finding the courage to move forward can be a daunting task. But the natural movement of change can perpetuate hope, as the loud cries of grief and the quiet sleeplessness of mourning could bring about a kind of calm, previously unknown. Flowers bloom, babies grow, and memory fades.
Consciously holding onto positive recollections could fuel the push in the right direction. However, just a bit too much romanticizing could do more harm than good, stalling the growth and trapping the melancholy of what will never be again. For that reason, nostalgia could be dangerous, for the filtered perception of the past could prevent from being in the present.
Human memory fades with time. I often struggle with the idea of not being able to fully capture the important moments of my history. But perhaps this natural progression is a mechanism, hardwired in our brains to protect ourselves from obsessing over changes that are inevitable. The past shapes the present, but it does not define it. And I think what they say is true. What matters is now.
Every action has a reaction, and one wrong choice could perpetuate a vicious cycle of making more mistakes. In order to undo such repetition, there has to be an active intervention. When it comes to relationships, usually one person has to step up and make that choice to either move on or to stay and compromise according to the other’s needs.
I’ve been at the receiving end of the choice to disconnect, where a significant person in my life proactively decided to disappear. In hindsight, it’s only been beneficial, despite the initial sense of resentment for what felt like betrayal. I’m grateful and even a bit envious of that kind of mindset, where a person is able to make such a decision and just.. do it. I seem to lack that mechanism, but I often strive for it.
So far, I’ve made choices with the kind of conviction only young and determined dreamers make, convinced that everything will be fine as long as I remain truthful in my intentions and do my best in the given circumstance. This kind of naive optimism has kept me sane and hopeful to get me through the hardest of times. But the older I get, choices are getting more complicated, along with the details of what I want, and I am losing faith. Maybe this is what it means to get older and wiser. Or maybe it’s just time for me to make that choice to move on.
Things are on my mind. I’m easily affected, or maybe I’m a junkie for drama. Maybe I’m addicted to danger or constantly seek adventure. Or maybe I’m just a girl with a past, hoping for a better future.
My sometimes very sensitive heart inspires me to write, to act, to create. Then there are times it only feels like a blockage. Sometimes, I want to be free of love, of emotions and feelings. I want to be somehow above it all, living a kind of life that only consists of floating around, sharing wisdom with those in pain, healing other souls that need mending. But I know I am only human. I feel, I cry, I fail, I love, I try, and I hurt. I get drunk on wine and say silly things to feel embarrassed the next day. I eat too fast or too much and regret while holding my upset stomach. In other words, I do a lot of stupid sh*t.
For a long time, I’ve prided myself in having much control, regardless of my environment. The older I get, I realize it was all just an act to protect myself from being exposed. I’m learning to let myself go a bit, trust a little more, and it’s proving to be a much better way to live.
But letting loose has its limitations. There’s a thin line, as there always are. Some rules, spoken or unspoken, are not meant to be broken. They exist for a reason, usually to prevent catastrophic consequences. I’m all about prevention, and I’ve always been the one to stay cautious. My definition of letting go is only relative to my old self.
So then I’ve come to a rather neutral place, where I feel.. for lack of a better word, ‘zen.’ I feel like I’m fine. I am very aware of the more dramatic part of me that feels a lot at different points of my daily existence. But I am able to objectify those struggles and just kind of watch until they pass. I know time heals things, and nothing lasts forever. I’m flawed, and some will not love me back. I’m over it. I’ll take what I can and I am not going to wallow in sorrow over what I cannot have. It’s too exhausting, and I want to stop.
Then I have to ask myself… Have I become wiser.. or.. am I just jaded?
What I feel is real. What I want is real.
I was told once that if something’s not keepable, it’s worthless. I remember feeling a bit woozy as I tried to deal with a sense of loss I felt in my gut. I felt hollow. Then as the very familiar and subsequent numbness followed, I tried to completely let go. But no such thing happens by sheer force of will - at least not for me. I’m only very human.
I think about all the wounds of my past that still haunt me in my dreams and in the in between moments of my daily life. Sometimes, my heart sinks for no good reason, and I gasp for air. Sometimes, I’m afraid to think because fully understanding my state might break me. I hold my breath, as if this act of will would somehow put a stop to my potentially harmful enlightenment. And sometimes, I think I might simply dissipate.
I am not a possessive person. I understand that nothing really belongs to me. Material things have never been much of value in my life. And I know that people’s hearts are not meant to be caged.
Everything is fleeting. All I could do is hold onto what’s given to me in this moment. I’ll take what I can.