'Make Good Decisions'

‘Make good decisions’, my Mother told me as I left for yet another flight. The words stuck to my skin like tar, burning at first, but helping to pave the way for smoother roads going forward. I repeat the words until they are concrete, sounding out the syllables with such solid simplicity until I finally realise; I can. I am not immune to the concept of personal growth. An intangible theory so subjective it made my head hurt, but here’s the kicker. Unexplainable, but it’s just my time. 

From all the efforts made by those around me, it still seems you can’t force change in a person. Family, friends, lovers, therapists. They shaped the way for me but ultimately my healing process wasn’t ready to begin. I changed my behaviour, I became healthier but only to an extent. For me there was no prolific moment that altered the way i saw the world. No transcendent person to enter and gift me the sense of calm. Just a collection of rancid moments filled with regret and shame that made me think, I can’t stay in the gutter forever. The rut I was trapped in for so long is beginning to become unstuck. The struggle isn’t as delicious as it once was, the appeal of heartbreak has plummeted. I’ve done it all. I’m ready to evolve. 

For the pain was once sustenance for my ego. To simply continue I needed to suck joy and responsibility from others. Enabling others to join my devilish escapades in the name of ‘fun’ was not only selfish, but all I could do. I wasn’t able to let go of the demons just yet, but I needed those peers in the heavy darkness. For this I am not proud. Nobody is a saint, ever. I can’t keep people from making mistakes, perhaps they were all too willing to join me on the road to self destruction without my persuasion. The difference is now, I don’t want to see others drown with me. Is it any more comfortable to choke on life’s sharp dealings, to look over and see your loved ones suffocate with you? No. Even those I didn’t care for, those pawns in my game were victims to my own manifesting pain. Manipulation and seduction were the pill and the control I could have on their bearings was the high. ‘Make bad decisions with me’, can be the most alluring ring in a persons ear. Who doesn’t need the occasional temptation of escape from their own stability? The loving partner, the home, the job. I provided a haven of hectic blur for those who needed respite from reality. I would blur the lines so heavily you couldn’t predict the consequences of the guilt you were about to consume by my side. Now, for reasons unexplained, my guilt switch has returned after years of deferral. Perhaps with too much gumption, but with time will come balance. 

My Mother only has hope for me, perhaps too much at times. My Father on the other hand potentially saw a deeper reality. An unhappy person feigning a life of excitement to hide the deep hurt that ate away at any chance for personal improvement. Perhaps this is why I fought so hard to build such an impenetrable blockade against him. I felt vulnerable and I didn’t like being seen for what I was. Aimless and relishing in avoidance. I didn’t want to be exposed for what I was; a girl full of pain in a woman’s body. I should have gauged more direction as I grew older but the staleness of past trauma rotted inside me and stunted my growth. When the actions became habits I had to realise, I am no longer the victim of circumstance. But I’m ready to let go of the hurt, I’m ready to flourish. I don’t want to drag myself through life only finding extreme joy in danger. I want to sit in a room alone, I want to enjoy a simple meal with loved ones, I want to be ready for a quiet and nourishing love when it comes along. All without the dizziness of deadly distractions.

Once my biggest fear was what would become of the existence I called life when this was all over. The travelling, the fast paced intensity that followed me round the earth. Shame manifested where drive and ambition should have been, the future seemed bleak. The saddened heaviness of the ‘days after travel’ continued pressing steady on my chest, killing the hope that would try to fight through. Pain of an unsettled soul with nowhere to call home. I submitted to being worthless beyond adventure and debauchery, beginning to accept that eventually I would fade into nothing when the spark finally dissipated. My attempts were futile to shut out the devil anxiety that began to write my future for me. So I made an unspoken deal, a mild one with not much gravity behind it but a deal nevertheless. When the time came and I had nowhere left to go, nothing left to see, I would take myself off this earth in the same vain mayhem I had so far exuded during my feeble time on earth. The meek possibility of contentment seemed so unrealistic that ending it all began to seem like the only reality available. I would continue on this path of soothing the lows with the high, brooding the highs with the low. All until there was no adventure left, I would ride the wave and enjoy the danger that lived under my skin until there was no place left for me. 

Now I have something I didn’t before. Hope. My sense of self worth has finally awakened, the loathing did nothing but make me sick. I don’t deserve to hate every ounce of my being, I don’t deserve to feel tainted and spoiled. My hurt can be channelled now, righting my wrongs. I still want to be that savoury haven for the lost, I believe I have a quality that invites people to relieve the pain that wrestles inside them. My mind is higher, my soul is freer now. When those who need an escape come looking to me, I won’t sign them a one way ticket to euphoria. I will listen, I will comfort in times of pain and lostness. Hopefully they can return to their lives with a little bit more of the perspective they need to find the lightness they deserve.

I had so little an idea of how I could service those around me, my mind clouded with self centred wallowing. So much so that I believed I would fail. Fail at being a friend, fail at being in love, fail at trying. So it became easier to be the person with the unreliable reputation, for so long that the reality of being just me was pure inadequacy. Letting go of the trauma and the potential interest I invited, to be me without the ‘hook’, was to be completely exposed and I couldn’t. I thought, what is there to like without the exhilarating tales and drama turned into comedic material? The truth is, they’ve been there through it all. There through the times I’ve hurt them, there through my periods of complete inwardness.  I’m ready to let go of the shackles and the grudges and unworthiness, and surely then there will only be room to let them in. 

The things I used to bitterly call ‘mediocrity’ were a source of terror. The room to hear your own sharp misgivings while you sign the tenant agreement, the contract of employment, living more than a couple of months in one place was deafening to me. The drone of my own unresolved issues would always threaten to take away my virtue if I didn’t shout loud enough to drown them out. But something in my soul has shifted, I crave the quietness. Not the numb silence I spent so many days exuding but a demure sense of calm. Subtle and beautiful. With the loss of so much anxiety I can hear myself and I am not the awful being that I had come to believe. Not even nearly. The recognition of my own good qualities is the wake up call. If I can make myself feel on the way to being whole, I can provide for others. Now comes my apology to those who I let down; 

I am sorry to the ones who have shaped me. The ones who have supported me. The ones who picked me off the ground and loved me in spite of my reckless behaviours or downtrodden times. Here I am, finally, saying I am here for them. I intend to go forward being here to listen, to laugh, to reminisce, to cry, to unburden them as they have me. I have shed many layers, my skin is raw. I want to rebuild. To be better for myself and all of them. Only they had faith in me when I couldn’t face the light and, for that, I am grateful.