My Quiet Life

When I reached my tipping point last August I was a bona fide mess. In order to survive I had to pull it together and figure out this ridiculous existence I found myself living. The first thing I did was halt all communication with the outside world. I didn't realize it at the time, but my complicated external relationships were directly impeding my ability to care for myself. At first the silence was painful. I was outrageously angry that engaging with the people I knew was so damaging to my self-worth, I simply couldn't do it. How, after everything I've been through, was I still nothing more than a pawn in everybody else's manipulative dramas? 

As the quiet spread through my psyche I redirected, squashed, yelled at and ignored that anger. Simply indulging it was too painful. Replacing my mental negativity with positive thoughts was the only thing that kept me from spiraling into a full-on meltdown. Plenty of tantrums slipped through the cracks of my new foundation, but I kept at it, and eventually gained a little perspective. It was a shocking moment when I realized I could take care of myself, I could own my problems and find ways to make my life better, I could be there for my husband and honor the commitment I'd made to live my life by his side. But that was it. 

I will never be who so many people want me to be. They will not understand my choices or reality, and I don't really care. Instead of beating my head on the same spot against the same wall for the rest of my life, accepting both my reality and other people's right to be who they are, set me free. But I didn't pick up the phone or start engaging again. Clearly I don't know how in a way that doesn't damage me. So here I sit, quietly, living a life I own and am actively improving. Reciprocal relationships aren't something I can do right now. More than a few people can honestly say if you're in a bind, I am not the girl to call. Of course this also means I don't have anyone to call in an emergency, either. Life is nothing if not a two-way street. However, am I the only one who finds it funny how I don't have nearly as many crises when I'm not reeling from one stinging insult or failed attempt to meet expectations after another? In a way, I divorced the presumptions placed on my life. They still exist, they're still out there just waiting to pounce and reclaim me, but finally after eight months they don't control me.

Thanks for joining,
Leah            

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