Better out than in they say, but dysfunction takes a long time to finally break. In my earnest endeavors to ignore the functionality of my pain I grew hard in ways that will never get better unless I commit to change. So I take steps away from thoughts and feelings that trick me into believing that other people are my problem. The only person I have the power to correct or control is me. In reality, even I carry the mistake of thinking that I am invulnerable. The truth is I am wounded, and in need of healing. Things that are broken can never operate at their original capacity. Cracks allow doubt and shame to seep through. Trouble is a constant barrier and denial is a coping mechanism. But if I take the time to address the scars I habitually covered; if I make it my business to come face to face with the dysfunction I wrongfully clung to–then maybe one day there can be healing for you, too.
“You will only prolong the pain if you run away from accepting responsibility.”
What hurts more than giving your all to someone and finding out it is still not enough? What kills a spirit faster than realizing you compromised everything in pursuit of someone else? What shatters a heart more definitively than fighting for someone who has a hard time taking care of their self? The answer is nothing. Nothing hurts more than sacrificing your self worth and valid feelings to the point where you can no longer recognize what you need. Codependency is debilitating. Instead of investing in my gifts I sat still while another promised things they would never give. At this moment however, it is not about them. It is my responsibility to address how I again abandoned my progress to follow a familiar dead end street. Same movie with the exact same ending. Me attempting to convince a heart to open up properly. Them trying to make up for the past I did not release. Me disappointing them and them disappointing me. It is all quite humbling. I thought I was well enough to redirect the dysfunctional dynamic. But I knew from the beginning my mental health was in jeopardy. So of course I am angry. Months and years of my life seemingly flushed down the drain. The love I thought would last forever is on the chopping block again.
Still, I have to be responsible. Pick myself back up and take care of my home.
Maybe if we both were healthier, neither of us would have felt so alone.
I am my own foundation. Behind closed doors and before I can support another and their additional weight; I must take care of my own needs. For so long I believed I could operate with conflicting goals. Holding onto patterns that wear on my fragile soul. The truth is you yourself cannot become whole if while broken you are trying to fit people into improper positions. Self care is always your divine responsibility. We try to make excuses for dysfunction and push it down until it does not actively hurt anymore. Throwing busyness and topical responsibilities on top of wounds that are multiplying without relief. I am a product of my history. A casual tale of a woman who did not get what she needed. From childhood to adolescence–the wait was never ending. Instead, I went out into dark spaces that seemed to know me better than I knew myself. There were desires deep in my heart that I could not release. There were nights I failed to surrender and days I wished I would never see. There were people I thought would never leave.
But healing is not about them, it is about getting better–for me.
Every morning I have to make a difficult choice as an adult who does not always make the best decisions. I do not struggle to wake up. It is like I am waiting for the alarm to remind me that I have things to do, so therefore sleep escapes me. I am in a self-reflective and stagnant limbo. Watching myself from the outside and screaming at the destructive patterns that this unrecognizable person is struggling to control. I have known dark places and people who were enticing enough that I forgot to keep my thoughts honorable. Now I am terrified that I am the very darkness that I used to think was my help. I am frozen in a lake of broken dreams, trying to muster up my apathy. The truth is I care too much and not enough about the things that should matter to me. I used to believe that if one part was in its place then the rest would manifest into a beautiful story. But I have to believe there is some beauty to be found in this brokenness even if my ideal is dying.
Miracles happen everyday.
But I feel like I am stuck repeating redundant story lines without any real release. It is time to accept reality. To gather all of my dignity and recognize my own potential. I can say that I am not my mistakes and that I am worthy of love that is not easily shaken. But I have to be adaptable when the picture has changed.
Love did not abandon me. It did not stick out its foot and trip me. Real love can overcome everything. But love can not be the only thing covering us. Sometimes we fall in love with the wrong ones. People who want you to cross the entire bridge rather than meet you halfway. People who only understand love under the context of chase.
Once the mystery is gone, so are they.
I am worthy of understanding. Someone who will experience me at my lowest and draw nearer when I need it the most. Someone who can filter through my anger and still want to keep me close. I do not need a love whose decision will always be to walk away or let me leave.
Real love keeps fighting.
Sometimes I give up. I get tired of fighting for something that no one else wants. I am told that I am unreasonable. But everyone has their limit and it is hard to recover once you have reached it. There is nothing a person can do or say that will make a difference to the one who is not committed to stay.
One day you’ll grow tired of them walking away.
Real love is unreasonable. When your heart truly wants something it will go after it even after analyzing the costs. Many people have told me that I am broken. They say there are so many compound fractures that there is no way those little pieces will ever fit together again. So imagine a person with this level of damage attempting to build with another on a shattered foundation. Being so distracted by your wounds
that you reject the opportunity for healing.
I have failed at certain aspects of life that many people find easy. School, work, family, romantic and platonic relationships–all of these have been negatively impacted by a common denominator–ME. I thought being perfect meant I could hide behind my smile and a helpful nature. I believed I could pretend I was whole. But the truth is the only thing I needed was acceptance. An acceptance that could never be offered while I hid the darkest parts of my soul.
When you are hurting and try to conceal the problem, you are only pushing the issue down temporarily. Like a jack in the box, eventually it gets wound up until there is no other option but release. In those moments, pain gets forced out of its cage. There can be no conversation, no bargaining for patience. What was once a minor issue has grown into a careless monster full of rage. And angry me has no problem pushing the object of my affection away.
Do I continue to use the excuse that I am broken?
Is there ever a substantial purpose in pain?
Or is brokenness the final solution if it protects you from getting hurt again?
Every day I push away the effects of my self-inflicted heartache and turn the other cheek towards what lies ahead of me. Reminiscing on the past used to be enough but now I am invested in the things that have yet to come. It is typical of us to search our history–looking for ways to recover what we lost. We stand in the same exact place where he/she/they left us. Waiting for that same person to pick us back up.
I realized in this fantasy that I have already started moving. Even when I do not want to, I am led by a desire to prove that I can handle myself without being attached to another human being. Everything I have comes from prayer, hard work and an annoying inability to give up on the one person I cannot live without–me. Even when I am hurting I still find the will to keep going. This time, the person who left was me.
I guess this is why it seems like I am okay, because I was gone before the crisis came our way. I spent nights wondering why the person I loved could not love me the way I needed. Feeling alone in a relationship that was not moving forward. Sometimes, I try to reach out and make peace because I feel guilty for choosing solitude over stagnancy. Even now, the thought of being alone is absolutely terrifying.
But I cannot pretend this is not happening. I set these wheels in motion because I did not believe in the future my partner was painting. All I wanted was a rough draft in the form of a commitment. What I received were more ideas and promises–but never anything concrete. I began to believe that he was not really committed to me. And I am proved as much as he retreats from my life abruptly.
I am a fighter who will give everything even when I am not being met half way.
But it is a waste of time trying to fight for someone who does not want to stay.