Trial and Error

"Tomorrow / I'll be stronger / I'm not gonna break down and call  you up / When my heart cries out for you / And tomorrow / You won't believe it / But when I pass your house I won't stop / No matter how bad I want to" -- Chris Young

I was with a friend last week, sitting on my front porch as the sun began to fade. I told her that I had been unable to write. I confessed what felt like a crime to her, as we watched the sun set behind The First Baptist Church across the street. I've tried to blog - it doesn't work. I've thought about working on my book, but I close it before I get anywhere. I finally realized I couldn't write because I wasn't ready to be honest with myself - much less with anyone else. I was unable to write because the only person I wanted to write to, well, I refused to write them. Understanding that I was hurting myself more than them by choosing not to write, I gave in and wrote three pages on a stark white legal pad. The words flowed. So did my tears. I had to re-do one page as my tears smeared the ink. I thought that only happened in movies. I still have the letter. I've been unable to make myself send it, but the point being that I wrote it. I faced my biggest fears of how I'd feel when I wrote the words "Goodbye".  Maybe the point never was for them to see it, but I had to know I could do it.

Amazingly, this person contacted me of their own accord two days after I wrote the letter (unbeknownst to them). Throughout the course of our conversation, I confessed that I was no longer sure of the path I was on. Am I running, I asked? Maybe I jumped ship too quickly, in a rush of emotions, that very few people truly understand. I tried to warn you of that they replied. In that moment I remembered why I needed to tell them goodbye. It is easy to sit somewhere: in a bar, on your bed, in a car, in your girlfriends living room etc and issue warnings from 2k miles away. You can say you foresaw something or knew I was making a mistake, but unless you are willing to be an active part of my life, while I'm making those mistakes; I don't need your I-told-you-so's. They are as useless as you. Realizing once again they were incapable of being the friend to me I needed, I chose to end the conversation. I haven't heard from them since. That's probably for the best.

Our conversation made me realize everything I didn't want to see. A person, whose life seems to be completely unaffected by me, is getting to rule all of my decisions. I still care what they think. Do they approve? Would this eventually lead them back to my door? No. Nothing will bring them back. More importantly, even if they came back, I realized I can't take them back. Allowing myself to be in victim mode, and maintain the belief this whole situation happened to me instead of accepting my responsibility fully has blinded me for the better part of two months. I was willing to walk away from a law school scholarship. Up root my entire life. Move somewhere, anywhere, and in the past two months I've legitimately made plans to move everywhere from: Texas City to Bellingham, Washington to Oklahoma City. I was running. That is what I do. I'm done running. 

The fact I'm turning in my running shoes does not mean I'm done hurting. It doesn't mean the nightmares have stopped or that I'm crying any less than I was a week ago. However, it does mean I'm getting a little bit stronger. Every single day I get a little bit better. Maybe it is selfish to cut him out of the picture completely -- he seems to thinks so. As he reminded me in our last conversation, I might as well do what I want to do, as that's what I've been doing this whole time. Funny, he actually believes that, considering I would have done whatever he asked in the not-so-distant past. I personally think by telling himself that lie, it is the only way he is able to sleep at night. However, he's the fool that will never understand or see or even grasp what he could have had. That's no longer my problem. Since he believes I've been following my own guide this entire time, I might as well. I am following through with my original plans -- the ones made months and months ago. Before I wrecked my car and thought for a moment I was dead, as my car spun across a highway. The ideas and plans that encouraged all-nighters and a time when I actually cared about my grades. The plans I had before I decided to wreck my home life and kill the closest people to me. The ones where I focus on myself, being the best that I can be for my kids. Finding a way to combine the academic and the mother; the only two roles I've ever truly done well. 

I am about to undertake the singular, most difficult thing I will have ever attempted in my entire life. I may fail. I've accepted that. This may not work. I'm still willing to try. There will be numerous forks in the road, paths I will not have seen coming, detours I will be forced to take and maybe when I'm old I will look back with regret to the road I didn't take, but that is the price one pays to actually live. I'm tired of drowning. More importantly, I'm tired of waiting for someone who doesn't deserve me to come and save me, only so they feel I owe them one more thing. I can save myself thank you very much. From now on I'm making my own life boat, with my own damn sewing machine, and it will float only where I tell it to go.

Love, 
The Rambling Gypsy