A More Appropriate Title than I Thought

My blog appears to have been on hiatus for a while.  I haven't had much to say, or rather I have and have been unsure of whether or not I really wanted to say it.  This post according to my post count is to be my 100th.  I wanted to make this post special, and avoided writing what was on my heart in order to that.  That hasn't worked out so well, as I've taken away my place to process.

It is no secret that as of late I have been struggling.  My sadness was soul consuming and I just didn't have it in me to do more than get out of bed.  I retreated.  I retreated from everything, blogland, my friends, my family, and even my husband.  I found myself in a place of hopelessness that I thought I had left behind me.  I considered calling my therapist.  I considered reaching out for help, but I didn't.  I'm not sure if it was shame, cowardice, or stubbornness that kept me from doing so.  Perhaps it was a mix of all three.

There is an old saying that says the first steps are the hardest.  I disagree.  I think the first steps back are the hardest.  First steps are hard, but what is worse is getting past those seemingly impossibly hard first steps only to be knocked on your butt back to square one.  When you have worked so hard only to once again feel like a failure getting up and trying again seems impossible.  It also seems pointless.  Why fight so hard when it seems like no matter what you end up back in that place?  I don't have the answer to that question.  Sometimes that is the hardest step admitting that you don't know.

I don't know why things in my past happened to me.  I don't know why they happen to anyone.  I don't know why I have these moments that take me to such a dark and lonely place.  I don't know why I don't allow others to help me out of these dark caverns.  I don't know why, no matter how good I am I always feel as though there is something wrong with me.  I don't know what I can do to make this better, no matter how much I want to.  I don't know why I feel like *I* have to be the one to make this better.

I was reading a book I borrowed from a friend.  This book had a section on definitions of letting go.  I don't agree with all of them, but some of them resonated with my current situation so I wanted to share them.

Letting go is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in our hands.  I wrestled with this one quite a bit in my head.  Powerlessness is what I felt as a little girl.  It's something I never wanted to feel again.  This makes me think that perhaps powerlessness doesn't mean what I thought it does.  Being powerless doesn't have to mean that I'm a victim.  It doesn't mean that I am not supposed to try to make things better.  Maybe it just means it's not all on me.  I rarely talk about my faith on this blog, but if you will indulge me for a moment I'm going to now.  I didn't grow up in a religious home.  Both of my parents found their faith later in life.  I had a great many struggles in my life that made me wonder why things happened the way they do.  It didn't make sense to me then.  I'd be lying if I said it did now, but perhaps there are things we aren't meant to understand.  I do believe that God has a plan.  I believe that things will work out the way they are meant to. I can't believe that I'm not meant to be able to love my husband completely.  I can't believe that there is something so innately wrong with me that I'm not meant to be a mother.  God doesn't always answer right away.  It's another cliche, but I better than anyone know the teacher doesn't talk during the test.

To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires, but to take each day as it comes, and cherish myself in it.  I'm controlling.  I like plans.  I want everything to work out the way I want it.  I want everyone to do and say exactly what I think they should.  I try very hard to make each day go according to plan.  You can guess how often that happens.  Some days things are great.  Those days are easy to take.  It's much harder to take the ones that don't go according to plan.  What I am learning is that I can't control how the world responds anymore than I can control the weather.  Even harder is learning to cherish myself.  I cherish my husband, my friends, my students.  I have never cherished myself.  I have always felt like there was something wrong with me.  I lived my life in a world where putting on a happy face was the order of the day.  Don't be sad and stop crying were things I heard all the time.  When I have those feelings now I feel guilty.  I feel like there is something wrong with feeling that way.  I am slowly learning that feeling what I feel is okay, and sad doesn't have to have a reason.  Sometimes I'm just sad.  

I lived my life trying to win awards or "be good" in someway.  No matter what I did I have never felt good.  I don't see myself that way.  When someone gives me a compliment I revel in it, but my head doesn't believe it.  Surely not me.  I wish I saw myself the way other people, especially my husband, see me.  I may not ever see myself that way.  Maybe it's enough to just feel like it is okay to feel whatever I feel.  Maybe it's enough to know it's okay to be gentle with myself.

To let go is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future.  It's easy to say I hate what happened to me and wish it never did.  Who wouldn't?  Then again, can I really regret something I had no control over?  On the other hand while what happened was horrible it has shaped the person I am.  I am, perhaps, stronger than I give myself credit for.  I work with children and try hard to make them feel good about themselves.  I'm able to recognize signs other adults might miss.  If the intimate knowledge I have with these horrible experiences allows me to stop it from happening to another child, or helps a child feel better about herself it can't be all bad.  I don't know if I want to live for the future.  It seems like then I'm only working toward a moment I may or may not get to.  Perhaps, I can just focus on letting go of the past and living for the moment.  They may not always be good, but another one will be along in a minute.

To let go is to fear less, and love more.  I grew up with fear.  The hits, the scary touches, the never knowing what would set it off.  Fear and I are old friends.  Even now we are close.  Always wondering what you've done wrong.  Anytime someone wants to talk to you expecting something bad.  That's how I have always lived my life.  Living with fear is living in a dark place.  I still live there, but now I feel like at least I have a flashlight.  Love is the flashlight.  Having people around who care about me makes my world less scary.  It doesn't mean I'm not afraid, but it means I have hands to hold in the dark and someone to help cast a light on the shadows.  

I changed the name of my blog a while ago to express a change in what I was feeling at the time.  Letting go when I was feeling good was easy.  This time is harder, but I'm learning.