All that I can do is hold myself.
All that I can do is have compassion for you. For as long as I've known you, you were always someone who tried to do what was best. You were always trying to find a solution. I know that my happiness was something that you considered. It's easy to love you, respect you and understand you through all of this despite my own deep confusion and disagreement.
All that I can do is have compassion for myself. I know my worth. I know I tried my best. I know that I am full of love and joy. I can love myself away from this and through all of this. I am so proud of myself for making moves with as much grace and integrity and authenticity as I can. I love that I always want to grow and learn from my mistakes. I love how I take care of myself and protect myself. I am learning and practicing giving myself validation that I craved from other people for so long and finding that it hits the same if not better.
All that I can do is take responsibility for the part I played - for all the so-called good that I contributed, and all the so-called bad. When I dwell on either too heavily, the side effects of excess rear their heads almost immediately. Pride and then guilt. Confusion and then shame. I tend to be an all or nothing kind of person, I used to jump to conclusions and indulge too easily in the safety of extremes. You see, if you go to the extreme, at least you have a simple and logical answer undisturbed by the gray area or by exceptions or by nuance. Whenever I find myself running to one end of the spectrum, I try to work back to middle so I may begin to accommodate a greater variety of perspectives. I strive for balance and I strive to accept the flow of the universe.
All that I can do is be present. A basic rule of thumb I learned about driving in Taiwan, just focus on not hitting the person or vehicle in front of you. Similarly, I am currently most in tact when I am focusing on what's in front of me. When I dwell on the past, I oftentimes break - not always because it makes me feel sad, although it almost always does - but due to the complexity that's there; an abundance of emotions, energies and experiences to analyze and pull at. When I dwell on the future, I oftentimes panic - not always because it makes me feel scared, although it almost always does - but due to the uncertainty that's there; and abundance of unknowns, challenges and discomfort to overcome and face.
All that I can do is move on with my life. Because time moves and marches on despite how badly I wish it would freeze so that I could spend an eternity grieving the loss of you. If time were no object, I would relive every moment with you over and over and over again - to never be away from your love, to always feel your touch, to feel your adoring gaze peering into my soul, to whisper endless I love yous. I know I speak as though you have died, and that is because that is how it feels to me. In a way, a part of me died that day as well. She too deserves to be mourned. Two people so fully in love, frozen in a time I no longer have access to. Only in memory. But to go there means to dance with ghosts as the living pass me by, unsure where I've gone (just inward). I try a little more each day, to unmesh myself from you - to unstick, to untether. It hurts so incredibly much. Especially when I've made so much progress in doing so and I suddenly look back and see how far back in the past you're becoming. And then I miss you all over again. It doesn't undo all the work, but it's a new kind of pain that comes with being committed to growth and moving forward for the sake of this amazing life that I must keep living. I wonder how many days like this there'll be in my lifetime - days filled with heavy sobs and a heaving chest even when everything else is going right (perhaps especially when it's going right).
All that I can do is hold myself.
All that I can do is have compassion for you. For as long as I've known you, you were always someone who tried to do what was best. You were always trying to find a solution. I know that my happiness was something that you considered. It's easy to love you, respect you and understand you through all of this despite my own deep confusion and disagreement.
All that I can do is have compassion for myself. I know my worth. I know I tried my best. I know that I am full of love and joy. I can love myself away from this and through all of this. I am so proud of myself for making moves with as much grace and integrity and authenticity as I can. I love that I always want to grow and learn from my mistakes. I love how I take care of myself and protect myself. I am learning and practicing giving myself validation that I craved from other people for so long and finding that it hits the same if not better.
All that I can do is take responsibility for the part I played - for all the so-called good that I contributed, and all the so-called bad. When I dwell on either too heavily, the side effects of excess rear their heads almost immediately. Pride and then guilt. Confusion and then shame. I tend to be an all or nothing kind of person, I used to jump to conclusions and indulge too easily in the safety of extremes. You see, if you go to the extreme, at least you have a simple and logical answer undisturbed by the gray area or by exceptions or by nuance. Whenever I find myself running to one end of the spectrum, I try to work back to middle so I may begin to accommodate a greater variety of perspectives. I strive for balance and I strive to accept the flow of the universe.
All that I can do is be present. A basic rule of thumb I learned about driving in Taiwan, just focus on not hitting the person or vehicle in front of you. Similarly, I am currently most in tact when I am focusing on what's in front of me. When I dwell on the past, I oftentimes break - not always because it makes me feel sad, although it almost always does - but due to the complexity that's there; an abundance of emotions, energies and experiences to analyze and pull at. When I dwell on the future, I oftentimes panic - not always because it makes me feel scared, although it almost always does - but due to the uncertainty that's there; and abundance of unknowns, challenges and discomfort to overcome and face.
All that I can do is move on with my life. Because time moves and marches on despite how badly I wish it would freeze so that I could spend an eternity grieving the loss of you. If time were no object, I would relive every moment with you over and over and over again - to never be away from your love, to always feel your touch, to feel your adoring gaze peering into my soul, to whisper endless I love yous. I know I speak as though you have died, and that is because that is how it feels to me. In a way, a part of me died that day as well. She too deserves to be mourned. Two people so fully in love, frozen in a time I no longer have access to. Only in memory. But to go there means to dance with ghosts as the living pass me by, unsure where I've gone (just inward). I try a little more each day, to unmesh myself from you - to unstick, to untether. It hurts so incredibly much. Especially when I've made so much progress in doing so and I suddenly look back and see how far back in the past you're becoming. And then I miss you all over again. It doesn't undo all the work, but it's a new kind of pain that comes with being committed to growth and moving forward for the sake of this amazing life that I must keep living. I wonder how many days like this there'll be in my lifetime - days filled with heavy sobs and a heaving chest even when everything else is going right (perhaps especially when it's going right).
All that I can do is hold myself.
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