Torn
Clarity is not something that comes easily with many conflicting decisions held in question at once.
I desperately and deeply yearned for two things that couldn't possibly seem to coexist but did. I held one in each hand as far from each other as possible because they seemed incompatible; all my strength went into keeping them apart and as a result I was ripped in two. My intentions were not to choose one over the other. If the situation was paradoxical, their coexistence was possible.
Failure was a conversation I had with my sister. Something whispers to me that in that same conversation we talked about how you figure out what you want. There's a thought that has been on my mind for the past few months - when we look back on our lives and see how much we have changed it's funny that when we look at ourselves in the future, we think nothing will be different from how it is now. However, this is simply not true. Change is the only constant thing as we grow and age. There is honesty in being able to admit that it isn't possible to know what I want even though I like to think I have full articulation of all my desires.
When we care deeply about a person, it's reasonable that we will want to influence their decisions as to what we think would be best for them. This is especially true for me since I have an insane desire to FIX everything. For any sadness, loneliness, problem, or challenge my first impulse is to offer advice and suggestions instead of to listen and offer sympathy. In this same way, I challenged my thoughts about what to choose. Instead of allowing myself to feel the pain, sadness and loneliness of uncertainty, I pushed forward and reasoned and logicked and problem-solved to the best of my ability. I became unrecognizable to myself as I switched between one outcome and the other. It's a scary thing to no longer be able to trust what you want, and not be able to shut down all the inner reasoning. In a desperate effort to choose, I would strangle one while walking towards the other and when I would change my mind and try to go back, the strangulation had changed it making it all the more difficult to determine or recognize what the best outcome was. It became all I could think about, and I couldn't find any peace because, in all honesty, I was never in control of the situation and even though I wanted to be, I never would be.
Furthermore, I was fighting and rebelling against what I had been taught and what I felt I should do. As women, we are told to be educated, to be interesting, to make our lives into something awesome, and then we are gently reminded that if we find love, that it is ok to give up all of this for the rich rewards of family. Don't get me wrong, I love this narrative. I just wonder why there isn't an equally loving and gentle one about how there may be room for family AND all those other things? In trying to solve the conflict, I put myself into the narrative, and was convinced that giving up on my dreams (which is what it felt like) was what I wanted. As I got closer to following through, I didn't have the ability, the strength, or the belief that what I was telling myself was true. I couldn't choose it because it partly seemed like giving up a majority of who I had become. And in deep despair and because I couldn't do it anymore, I ended up walking away from the other thing that I held so strongly in one hand.
"This is the forked tongue of grief again. It whispers in one ear, return to what you once loved best, and in the other ear it whispers, move on." -Little Bee, Chris Cleave
Clarity is not something that comes easily. With many conflicting decisions held in question at once, I wonder whether my mistake was in not using my strength to force them to get used to each other within my cupped hands. My mistake may have been in trying to do it by myself.
I still feel torn and broken. The thing I still have left, I try not to hold on to too tightly because I feel like I now know how that ends. I've learned that it too will change and look different with time and if I ask too much of it, or it asks too much of me then maybe it too will be something I lose. Even when things are made whole, I'm afraid that I'll forget the lesson only to repeat it.
I desperately and deeply yearned for two things that couldn't possibly seem to coexist but did. I held one in each hand as far from each other as possible because they seemed incompatible; all my strength went into keeping them apart and as a result I was ripped in two. My intentions were not to choose one over the other. If the situation was paradoxical, their coexistence was possible.
Failure was a conversation I had with my sister. Something whispers to me that in that same conversation we talked about how you figure out what you want. There's a thought that has been on my mind for the past few months - when we look back on our lives and see how much we have changed it's funny that when we look at ourselves in the future, we think nothing will be different from how it is now. However, this is simply not true. Change is the only constant thing as we grow and age. There is honesty in being able to admit that it isn't possible to know what I want even though I like to think I have full articulation of all my desires.
When we care deeply about a person, it's reasonable that we will want to influence their decisions as to what we think would be best for them. This is especially true for me since I have an insane desire to FIX everything. For any sadness, loneliness, problem, or challenge my first impulse is to offer advice and suggestions instead of to listen and offer sympathy. In this same way, I challenged my thoughts about what to choose. Instead of allowing myself to feel the pain, sadness and loneliness of uncertainty, I pushed forward and reasoned and logicked and problem-solved to the best of my ability. I became unrecognizable to myself as I switched between one outcome and the other. It's a scary thing to no longer be able to trust what you want, and not be able to shut down all the inner reasoning. In a desperate effort to choose, I would strangle one while walking towards the other and when I would change my mind and try to go back, the strangulation had changed it making it all the more difficult to determine or recognize what the best outcome was. It became all I could think about, and I couldn't find any peace because, in all honesty, I was never in control of the situation and even though I wanted to be, I never would be.
Furthermore, I was fighting and rebelling against what I had been taught and what I felt I should do. As women, we are told to be educated, to be interesting, to make our lives into something awesome, and then we are gently reminded that if we find love, that it is ok to give up all of this for the rich rewards of family. Don't get me wrong, I love this narrative. I just wonder why there isn't an equally loving and gentle one about how there may be room for family AND all those other things? In trying to solve the conflict, I put myself into the narrative, and was convinced that giving up on my dreams (which is what it felt like) was what I wanted. As I got closer to following through, I didn't have the ability, the strength, or the belief that what I was telling myself was true. I couldn't choose it because it partly seemed like giving up a majority of who I had become. And in deep despair and because I couldn't do it anymore, I ended up walking away from the other thing that I held so strongly in one hand.
"This is the forked tongue of grief again. It whispers in one ear, return to what you once loved best, and in the other ear it whispers, move on." -Little Bee, Chris Cleave
Clarity is not something that comes easily. With many conflicting decisions held in question at once, I wonder whether my mistake was in not using my strength to force them to get used to each other within my cupped hands. My mistake may have been in trying to do it by myself.
I still feel torn and broken. The thing I still have left, I try not to hold on to too tightly because I feel like I now know how that ends. I've learned that it too will change and look different with time and if I ask too much of it, or it asks too much of me then maybe it too will be something I lose. Even when things are made whole, I'm afraid that I'll forget the lesson only to repeat it.
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