The Purge

We take pain and mental and emotional ailments that show up in our bodies in different ways. When I’m having a hard time digesting hard news, my tummy starts acting crazy and either I absolutely do not eat at all or I eat all kinds of weird things. Absolutely not my best move but I know what it means. I’ve been triggered all week mentally and while it’s not as bad as it could be, it’s definitely bad enough that I’m restless and thinking about it. But this is not about being triggered. No! This is about healing, purging and creating a space for myself to heal and keep healing by letting go of the things that oppress me. That said, let’s dump.

Stallion. Sigh. The fact remains he ain’t shit and don’t give a fuck about me. Okay, got it. And there’s nothing around that. I’m not convinced that I give a fuck about him either but I’m just in the aftermath of imagining what once was and how it felt when it was still a possibility. Now I’m just mad and salty BUT I’m also grateful that the time spent wasn’t long and I didn’t lose my sanity in the process. It is supposed to sting a little. There was something but I’m not going to dwell on that sting. It hurt and I learned and I’m still really shook that certain things bother me. When will black pickups stop being annoying? When will hot Italian dudes ever measure up to stallion? When will I feel that deep ass connection again? Not sure but like everything, I am going to let the time pass and allow the moment to ride itself out. What I resist will persist and honestly it’s not like I am spending all of my waking moments thinking of him. I am thinking of him less and less these days but on occasion he’s on my mind all day.

I used to believe that my pain was all I had. I was so deep in my own sadness and worrying about my despair that I lost moments to be grateful and thankful and really come away from my day feeling fulfilled. I used to actually measure my worth and my joy based on what people thought of me. I wouldn’t be able to gauge and be comfortable in my own joy if I did not have someone to validate me. I was starved for appreciation, acceptance, and feeling normal and loved. I really did not get what praise or encouragement felt like. I knew what absence was, I knew what long silences was, I knew what staying in my own world was, I knew not to rock the boat, I knew better than to ask for anything, I knew better than to express any kind of emotion, I knew better than to share anything too….JUST ANYTHING!!! But at some point I had to get over that bullshit. I was past the prison and I was free but I still held myself hostage because it’s all I knew.

Like all things and all situations that hurt and damn near kill us, there has to come a point where things are ENOUGH. At some point I was over the bullshit and over the nastiness and I had to take a stand and make a choice for myself not to be a victim or the productive of someone else’s misery. My disposition in life is to be joyful and happy. My plan for myself is to be joyful and happy and that I don’t need permission for at all. I had to make a choice and it was either be sad or be free. The thing about freedom is that it doesn’t absolve or remove hard feelings but at least I knew that those moments would pass. My former self was in permanent phases of sadness. That didn’t feel good. My commitment is to my joy and feeling good because I’ve made good choices. Being free is knowing that I’m not confined nor shackled to anyone’s opinion of me. Love me. Hate me. Like me. Dislike me. It’s all the damn Same.

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