Precious

 

Brothers and sisters. I don’t wanna preach today.
(of course I do, have we met?)

We seem to have lost the art of forgiveness. We seem to want to hold on to pain and grudges like they are something worth having. Beating ourselves up about the past and laying blame is the new black. Or grey, maybe its grey. 48 shades of colorblindness.

Forgiveness it the key to letting go, and letting go is glorious.

I feel like when you cannot let the past go, you end up like Gollum.

In the dark, focused on something that is gone.

Can I tell you a secret?
The thing when you had it? It was sucking the life out of you, had you hiding in the dark, talking to yourself, missing everything that was going on in the world and eating raw fish.

Don’t get me wrong, sushi is awesome. But let your precious go.

That was never your precious to keep.

Kill it with fire and rejoin the living.

Every time I say fuck it, like really FUCK IT to something I cannot change. Something better comes along. Less prone to evil and more sparkly.

P.S Fuck it. (Emphatically)

I have realized that in walking around this planet for 42 years I have lost a lot of things. Pets, car keys, my favorite (precious) ring from my mother, journals, half my shit in a divorce, thousands upon thousands of dollars and an equal amount of bobby pins. People that meant the world to me and yet here I am. Alive and well.

Sometimes when we lose things, they come back. I have lost a watch on the beach just to have it pulled from the sand 2 days later, I still have that watch.

It’s different with people. If you lose a watch you pout and go buy a new one.
When it’s a person we have to fill the void in our life that they left or keep tripping into the hole they left. This emptiness stems from one of two things, either you lost yourself in loving them or you found yourself there.

I was lost.

Once upon a time I didn’t understand love.

I said the words, not lying, but not understanding them either. Then we would break up.

I left them behind for a reason. I didn’t like myself very much and I made some pretty shitty choices.

I forgive myself.

Those absences were easy, after the initial shock of loss I found myself with all this glorious room to rebuild and I’d come back to myself.
Mind you, back then I would just repeat the whole process, find myself just to trip into feelings and get lost again.

I am much better now.

Someone has come waltzing out of my past.

Left my mouth agape with his return.

Acts 3:15 You killed the author of life, but God raised him from the dead. We are witnesses of this.

He is important to me, left a huge void because for the first time ever with a man I became MORE myself. He dug into my psyche and pulled out pieces of me I thought were lost and gone forever.
And when he left I found myself fighting ferociously to keep those things he resurrected in me. The things he reminded me of and breathed life into were integral parts of who I am.
And those dear readers are my precious.

With his encouragement, I sloughed off the ideas of what I should be and began enjoying what I am.

I’m back.

I no longer feel the need to pad my life with warm bodies. If you are here it’s because I care about you and I value you. Loving someone is actively participating in their happiness. Encouraging them to be themselves and celebrating that with them.

I had that, lost it and found it again. But I didn’t lose myself in the process.

If he wanders off again (and he might) I’ll keep what he helped uncover.