The Anatomy of Letting Go...

I was never one of those girls that had a plan when it came to a guy.  I never talked about when I would get married or how many kids I would have.    I was too busy falling for the guy with dreamy eyes that wrote poetry, could sing a tune and speak multiple languages.  My college boyfriend did just that and then his shininess started to fade when I learned that he recycled poems and sang songs for all the girls.  How dare he?  I no longer felt special and he came off of his pedestal real quick.  I also never thought I would marry him and yet I spent a big chunk of time with him.  It took me forever to let go.  I think the reason was I wanted him to be good.  Once I accepted that some people choose not to lead with their goodness, I was able to bounce.

When it did come time to finally commit to "the one", I found him incredibly charming.  Not a poet this time but a singer.  Opera.  He belted it.  In Italian, French, Spanish and German.  Not fair, he had a lot of ammunition.  I still fought the idea of settling down tooth and nail.  The women that I was hanging around with at the time thought I had struck gold.    They planned my future for me and wrapped it up in a big bow.  I listened to unhappy people and paid a high price.  I felt like I was playing pin the tail on the donkey.  That's not exactly the way to start a future with someone.  Having people push you in a direction that you are "supposed to go", cheering you along the way, aimlessly hitting a target only to remove the blinders and realize that all you have gotten is an ass.

Letting go of the ass was easy.  It was the letting go of my "future", the one I fought so hard against that was the tricky part.  It was very difficult untangling from the expectations and ideals that I had talked myself into.  Suddenly there was a plan that went south and I had to deal with it.  That's why I never wanted it in the first place.  Lo and behold I peeled myself from the life raft or rather the rotten piece of driftwood that my friends thought was so "great" and I began to grow.  Slowly but surely I remember what courage was.  I learned to never settle and I learned to stand on my own two feet.  Every once in a while I still stumble and it stings but I get up quicker each time.

I sometimes stand on the battlefield of other's lives.  On the sidelines away from the explosions.  Bomb's spontaneously going off and they never knew that the timer was set.  On standby, I wait until I am called to wade through the rubble of rights and wrongs.  I often have to bite my tongue and just listen.  Otherwise I will have flashbacks of hapless poet and want to attack some innocent bystander who has wandered onto enemy territory, over the line into my past.  And then I remember to let it go.

At the moment I am alone.  Letting go.  The sun is setting and the sky is pink.  My phone rings and cries are heard.  I feel a lot and my heart aches.  All I can do is pray.  For the dawning of a new day.  For the ability to walk in the direction that I am supposed to go and take the few that I love with me.