Oh my Gooooooood, that sounded like such a long time to me then. I was utterly convinced he was wrong, that I would be over it and ready to move on after like, ya know, a month or two. I was 25! I didn't have two whole years to waste being unable to healthily date!
And so I bullheadedly embarked on what proved to be an appallingly abusive relationship. And then I slept with a bunch of people that I had no intention of pursuing a relationship with. And then I embarked on another relationship. Not unhealthy -- but in retrospect, one that I could have put a lot more thought into. And then I slept with a bunch more people that I had no intention of pursuing a relationship with. I wrapped my fear around me like a blanket, and I sailed my ship of safety til I sank it.
And throughout this whole time, I kept pictures of me and my husband in their frames. Several of them were shoved in the back of my closet, still framed and untouched. But there were other ones that I kept displayed on my bookshelves in my bedroom, and I'd always slip them somewhere out of sight when a new intrigue would come to my house.
Somehow, I didn't realize that that was unhealthy. Until just now, apparently, when I was in the middle of cleaning out my closet and came across several of those frames with pictures from the wedding, pictures from the early part of our marriage, pictures of my in-laws. And with very little thought, I simply removed the photos, placed them in the rather smallish box that contains the very few sentimental belongings from my marriage, and then stacked the picture frames in the pile of Goodwill donations.
I took a step back, furrowed my brown, and thought Why had I never been able to do that before? I honestly think I'd managed to convince myself that I didn't want to get rid of all the framed pictures, as opposed to not being able to get rid of them.
Now. The past week or two of my life has been a turning point for me. I have discovered precisely what I want and precisely when I want it. I have not only stopped drinking everyday, I've stopped needing to drink everyday. I have made a timeline of my life for the next year and hung it on the wall of my bedroom so it stares at me and wags its finger disapprovingly when I waste time. I have a plan, I have time, I have the money to do it, I am suddenly exactly where I need to be, and I have the patience to work toward where I eventually want to go. I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind, got my paper and now I'm free.
It's Februrary, 2011. In summer of 2008, Dr. Campbell warned me "two years" before I reached some semblance of normality. I should have listened.
 |
| The less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine, M |
No comments:
Post a Comment