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jUsT lEt iT gO

11/28/2022

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This meme encapsulates my frustration rather perfectly.

Of the myriad of emotional phases and stages of my personal grief, this is one of the funnier and far more chaotic and volatile. The justice-seeking, foot-stomping, tantrum-throwing part of myself just can't stand when other people tell her to move on or to let things go or to accept reality. There are other parts of me that feel differently to her as well. She gets mad at them and thinks they're stupid, too... which makes for a very interesting internal dynamic. I love watching her rage and flail and fight, though. She deserves to. I'm trying to find ways to honor her as well as the seemingly calm, kind, rational, and forgiving parts of myself. We strive for balance in this house.

Let me be clear, I am not fixating on my anger or dwelling on the past (it has just barely become the past, ffs). I really appreciated something one of my friends said that stood in pretty stark contrast to the general sentiment of what people have had to say to me recently - "You're allowed to deal with this in whatever way you want." I just loved that someone said that to me instead of telling me what I've always heard throughout my life. The mentality of letting go and acceptance is wonderful and the people who offer that advice are just as supportive and well-meaning as those who would encourage me to lose my fucking shit. But for someone like me, who has spent the majority of her life pandering to the whims, wants and needs of other people (practically willingly and automatically due to excellent socio-cultural behavioral conditioning), "let it go" is yet another abandonment of self.

Throughout all of this, I have come to realize just how much I fucking love myself. I'm busy having out-of-body experiences, watching myself process how the past three years of life have shifted so dramatically so quickly. The gears in my head are constantly turning, whirring, kicked into overdrive not only to try and understand what has happened, but to save myself from becoming a victim to it. Rejection and loss feel different this time around. Or rather, I am reacting to them differently for reasons unplanned and unbeknownst to me. I don't feel numb... In fact, I can feel absolutely everything.

Including fury. Including joy.

The points along the spectrum of emotion have become so distinct and poignant that I would go as far as to say as I feel a little bit unhinged... or in the process of going insane. But with alongside all of that chaotic and heightened energy, there is a deep sense of peace and calm. There is an unexplained and unfamiliar growing absence of something though... and that is fear. I mean, it is still there and it's not like I've forgotten what it feels like, but something tells me that it's not necessary to be fearful of anything right now. And that kind of contributes further to that unhinged sort of feeling... because now, it almost feels as though I have nothing to lose. I don't know if that's entirely or objectively true at all, but it is what I feel with unnerving clarity.

So now, back to my frustration around the 'let it go' movement. It really depends what mood (or phase, or stage) I am in when you throw it at me. Most times, I would agree. Even right now, as I've spent time writing this, I feel more accepting and friendly towards the idea because thus is the dance, the ebb and flow, of severe presence and consciousness. But then, there's the inevitable prickling - an internal growl of sorts - at the idea of justice not being sought after effectively. Because herein lies the problem (and it actually has very little to do with what I'm going through in and of itself)... discomfort and disdain for other people's negative emotions. 

No one loves you when you're sad.

Well, the majority of people anyway. Because the majority of people are sad or insecure themselves, and when other people openly and expressively display negative emotions, it holds up a mirror - a mirror into a part of themselves that they are desperately trying not to face or even acknowledge. They don't do it maliciously, of course - for most, their disassociation and detachment from their own bodies and emotions make it impossible for them to recognize the cause of their annoyance at or resistance to your display of emotion. 

I know that everything is going to be okay. I know that I am strong. I know that everything is working in accordance to divine timing and in my favor. I know that other people have it worse, and that in the "grander scheme of things" this appears unimportant. But hear me out, I'm not sad for the sake of being sad - I am not having a completely normal emotional response for a perfectly appropriate amount of time (and without the expectation for linear, one-time healing) just for the fun of it or because I think that my problems are bigger than anyone else's/that I am more important than other people. I am BEING sad because I have something to be sad about. I am grieving loss. I am disappointed. I am heartbroken. I am angry. (I am also happy. I am excited. I am grateful. I am blessed. But those emotions are not the topic of discussion.) Let me be human.

Stop being dismissive of other people because you constantly dismiss yourself because somebody taught you that you ought to. 

Don't mistake my vulnerability and clarity of self for weakness because you were taught to be ashamed of yourself and to hide. You were just trying to survive then, and I'm proud of you for doing what you needed to do to get yourself through that, but you're not in danger anymore. And neither am I.

Funnily enough, the extreme and severe displays of emotion that you may have such an adverse reaction to come as a result of years and decades and centuries of repression and generational trauma. I refuse to contribute to pile on to that. Because the universe will always reclaim. What goes up must come down, and I would much rather fall from a molehill than a mountain.

So be wary of the advice you dole out and the true intentions behind it. Is it their discomfort or yours that you're trying to quell when you tell them to, "jUsT lEt iT gOo"?
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Last Sunday

11/6/2022

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"I'll never allow someone to make me feel this way ever again. I am over these emotionally unavailable, immature men!" Lauren yelled. If there had been anything made of glass in her vicinity, she could have shattered it with just a glance. Then again, she was oftentimes all bark and no bite - especially now as she raged into nothingness, hoping just to scream the pain way. She was devastated and angry. "How could he waste my time like that?! How can people be so selfish!" Her best friend gave a crackly "mhmm" - she was on loudspeaker, still available for comfort and venting but safely far away from Lauren's necessary path of destruction.

Sudden silence... "Laurie?" Shay called out, "Where'd you go?"
"I'm tired of wasting energy on him," Lauren replied, now speaking in barely a whisper. She'd sunk to the kitchen floor, propping herself up against the refrigerator. "He doesn't deserve you, girl," Shay said melodically. Lauren scoffed and shook her head. That's not what this was about. She couldn't understand why people felt okay treating her like this. She'd come a long way with healing and loving herself. She was now at a place where at the very least she knew what she was worth - the very best. "I've gotta come up with some kind of strategy, Shay," she began. "Like, ground rules; rules of engagement or something?"
"What, like boundaries?" Shay answered. "That certainly sounds healthy, my friend."

She fell in love again. And this one was different. Real is the wrong word to use... because the others were very much real (if they hadn't been, they surely wouldn't have taken so much time to heal from), they just came nowhere close to this. Pure, beautiful, healthy, balanced love. Lauren maintained that she needed a strategy to protect herself from pain, especially since there seemed to be so much more to lose this time around.

They were holding hands as they ate lunch. Lauren looked up at him and said, "Do you love me?". She knew the answer, she felt the answer, lived the answer. The most tender smile spread across his face. He took her face in his hands and whispered, "Yes." He gently pulled her into a deep kiss, then he gazed into her eyes. "I love you."

On the last Sunday of every month, Lauren vowed to ask him the very same question. An easy question, she thought, with an easy answer.

The first many months were a no-brainer. Answers like "Of course" and "Always, baby" were more common than a simple yes. The question was sometimes answered without words, a burning gaze of equal parts desire and devotion or being swept up in each others arms. At times that were harder, it was given as kisses upon tear-stained cheeks and gentle reassurances that they were in this together.

Life, and time, progressed and the energy and answers began to change. Even when the words remained the same, "Of course" came with an air of annoyance. There were no kisses after the "Yes", just tightly pursed lips and clenched teeth because he didn't know how to tell her that it was starting to hurt him that it seemed like she couldn't take him at him his word. He didn't know that she was checking in to save herself, to do better than the last time. All that he began to feel was that his love was not good enough because she couldn't feel it. After all if she could in fact feel it, why would she ask so often?

He began to pull away to tend to his bruises... and to seek situations and people where it took less to be appreciated for his love and kindness. In truth, there was never any doubt that she knew he loved her, but her seemingly constant questioning became misinterpreted as her stating his inadequacy. And so he subconsciously became it, slowly giving up because it was easier than feeling and addressing his pain around what he perceived as her message to him. He hated the idea that she was not happy. Her happiness was the only thing he once wanted. But it scared him to know that he wouldn't be able to give her what she deserved.

Lauren could feel him pulling away and she started to panic internally. She tried to contain her anxieties, but they always got the better of her in some way. If it wasn't blurting out a misconception she had built up in her head for days or weeks, it was her energy shifting too. Slowly withering away from the inside out as her fear drained her. Her bubbly and bright nature became more and more staged and hollow as she desperately tried to maintain control and stability within. She couldn't hide her fear, although there were times when she thought she'd been able to as it was a poison that informed her thoughts and her actions. Her desperation affected so much more than she was able to realize. She tried to reassure him of her love, "I love you so much, you know" multiple times a day. She didn't realize how it was making him feel guiltier - that all he heard was "Why can't you love me as much as I love you? I am so good at loving you, why aren't you capable of this?". She didn't mean (or say or think or feel) any of that in the slightest. She wanted him to know that "I love being loved by you", "I feel your love in the depths of my soul", "it is because of your love and the way that you love me that I am able to love you so much in return", "you make me so happy".

Constructive conversations became repetitive and redundant... because they weren't conversations about the right thing. Words were exchanged tenderly and honestly and sincerely, but the actions that were being taken thereafter weren't addressing their underlying misalignment. They were both constantly misunderstanding each other. So blinded and overwhelmed by the thought of being deficient in some way despite their intense love for one another that they couldn't see straight.

The last Sunday of October came around... but even though the answer to the question was the same. "Yes, yes, yes - undoubtedly, unequivocally YES, I LOVE YOU." It suddenly wasn't enough. They were hurting each other unintentionally and hurting further at that realization. There was too much pain. And what hurt the most is that it was no one's fault, there was no one to blame, there was no malicious intent. When he ended things, Lauren couldn't understand. She didn't know how it was possible that she hadn't done enough. She couldn't make sense of the fact that she had dived so deeply and bravely into love yet here she was on the other side feeling like she had been simultaneously not enough/too much. There was so much that she had left to say, so many Sundays she had wanted to spend loving and being loved by him.

There was nothing that she could have done to prepare herself this time around, she had not been preparing for an end. That was a lesson that she had to learn, too. It was not on her to fix, it was not on her to convince other people that she was deserving. All she needed to do was be and feel loved.

For she IS love. And so is he.
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    Jillian Lawrence

    South African. 20-something. Hopeless Over-Thinker.

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