On Two Years of Introspection

I volunteered to be alone,

and yet, at first, I hated it.

The house was empty, quiet,

and I kept listening

for the sound of footsteps on the stairs,

coming up to bed from the basement,

but there were none.

My fairy tale went up in flames,

and at first I'd thought

the pain and heartbreak would kill me.

I couldn't be happier to have been wrong.

Yes, the truth is,

South Dakota tried to kill me,

(or at least that's what it felt like.)

So yeah, I was still afraid of dying

trying to rebuild my life,

and I found myself once again,

wanting to text him

that he was right.

And then, I remembered my old motto:

Feel the fear, and do it anyway.

The last thing I expected

was to end up on vacation

finding myself attracted to anyone.

For a little while after I got home,

I was angry.

I'd thought the price I'd paid

to live the life of my dreams

was to release the love of my life

and never be in a position

to feel that kind of heartbreak again.

Now, it seemed as though

I'd ended that relationship for nothing.

And yet, I kept going.

I kept learning.

I kept going to bed alone and waking up alone,

angry,

sad,

frustrated,

wanting to run away.

I bought a body pillow and a weighted blanket.

I remodeled parts of the house.

I saged every room.

I started putting my self care first,

and I got stronger and less angry every day.

Then I took the time I'd been wanting

to go over pieces of my life,

to release old traumas,

because if I really was being guided

in the direction of falling in love again,

I sure as hell wasn't going to drag

anything from the past into the future.

If I wasn't going to fall in love again,

I still owed it to myself

to let everything go,

so I could learn to revel

in the love stories of others.

I did so much crying.

I remembered things

that hurt worse than any pain

I could ever remember feeling before,

and then I let it go.

I forgave my mom,

because I remembered

how much of a badass she was.

As a mother now myself,

I could see how hard she'd fought,

even though those memories hurt.

Next came a renewed attempt at flirting,

which ended up as awkward

as a stumbling newborn giraffe.

I cried a bit,

I got angry,

I raged because I couldn't understand,

and then I let it go.

I learned how to see people as they are,

and not through rose-colored glasses.

(Although I still like the song La Vie en Rose)

I learned to see people in the present,

and not as their potential in the future.

I learned that everything I thought I needed a relationship for,

I was capable of providing for myself,

and had been all along.

Then, the time came.

I felt a pull to emerge from my cave.

To start opening up again.

I remembered that I'd wanted

to reset myself to my most authentic self,

and I remembered who that was.

The version of me

who escaped an attempted kidnapping,

only barely disguised

as running away from home.

The version of me

who wanted to practice witchcraft

with every fibre of my soul.

The version of me who sprawled skyclad

under a thin sheet on the rooftop,

spent in my lover's arms under the stars.

At long last, I emerged from my cave,

fearless once again.

Bold.

Daring.

Strong.

Confident.

And yet still perfectly imperfect.

It was time to do the next right thing

and take accountability

for the wrong and pain I'd caused.

My mind tried to take the easy way at first,

did what I always did and waxed poetic,

...OK fine, romantic...

and then I challenged myself to do the hard thing

and apologize instead.

And I grew.

And I kept going.

And I thought about my once in a lifetime love

and realized that was the root of the problem:

I kept expecting him from them

instead of appreciating all of who they were.

So finally,

even though I'd thought I'd long since done so,

I finally let that life go.

Or at least I thought I did.

The universe, as it turns out,

has a way of surprising us.

It doesn't always give us what we want:

it gives us what we need.

Who I've found isn't that man,

any more than I'm still that young woman,

and I already know

he won't be my last or only,

and we're both OK with that.

Letting go of what I thought I wanted

brought me exactly what I need,

and I had no idea I needed anything.

I'm still growing,

still learning,

still stumbling around like a newborn giraffe,

but fearless all the same.