2018-04-17 Broken Records

Balance.. procrastination.. balance.. sacrifice sleep.. social anxiety.. steps forward.. struggle.. too much to do. Rinse and repeat.

I’ve been writing this blog for 15 months now and when I started I was very much a broken person. A broken down broken record repeating the same sad story week after week. I was all “too much and poor me for my misery”.

But my goal was to get it out of me. I unpacked my insides and laid it all out on the floor in front of my own eyes so I could see pick through and see what I’d been collecting.

It was heartbreak and stress and sadness and grief. Life is too short to carry all that around. I looked at all of that and slowly started tossing it in the trash. I say slow because there’s no way to pay any price to speed that up. It takes as long as it takes. And it took a while but I got there.

It also took some big life decisions. Quitting my job for one. Going back to school for another. These are luxuries afforded by a long history of being a reliable employee to a few organizations. I always put my best foot forward and saved my pennies and then when I most needed it, I could gift myself the sabbatical that would propel me into the future.

Those five months were priceless. Being healthy, writing, relaxing, working on other projects I otherwise wouldn’t have time for, and going on vacations became my lifestyle. I slowly recovered from 2016. And in that time I also mostly recovered from the end of my five year relationship with Matt.

I say mostly because I’m forever scarred from what we did to each other. Two good People who couldn’t force love into being enough to make a life together because there weren’t enough pieces to complete the picture. We were right for each other but our lives weren’t meant to be intertwined the way one with my heart strings requires.

It was tough for me to say “no” and remove myself from that relationship. I’ll be forever grateful for the girl that swooped in and blocked me from that door opening again when I cried and screamed and banged on it. That girl I hated despite never meeting her. She’s moved to Cali now and the Universe only knows what’s become of their relationship. I’m grateful not to care too much.

I know I still care some. I know deep down I’m still in some state of perpetual grief about all of it. Good times I wish I could recall without being drowned in sadness and regret. Bad times and problems my brain has tried over and over to solve. Time has helped the answer to be more clear. It was a puzzle all along and like I said, for all the right pieces, there was just too much missing.

Still, when I got feedback from my mentor on that one poem that was inspired by him, I could not help but cry as I cut and created that 3rd draft. That’s my life now.. words and poetry and allowing all of it out for examination and criticism.

I was broken open and I’m no longer broken but I remain open. I’m open for whatever this new life path brings my way. If I submit a hundred poems and they all get rejected, then so be it. I think about the fact that I don’t have a goal. I think about how all along the goal has been there and my grand failure was not recognizing it.

A person can’t help but believe in fate when they look back at the path of their life and see every choice they made and why. Day to day, you can’t see it. It just feels like the same record spinning over and over and, at times, extremely boring, but those broken record repetitions are what lead to what exists now.

Two beautiful, loving, happy children. A new loving relationship. The loving pursuit of a life dream. The security of a job that allows me to maintain my current way of life. The beauty of spring blooming around me despite the long winter. The prospect of a future full of love and positivity. The new broken record looks pretty great.

There will always be struggle with balance and hard work and health and social hurdles. The difference now is that I’m not packing it all down inside myself. I’m open and therefore free of repeating that part of my history.

Now.. time to go write some poetry!…

Poetry is the New Black,

~Miss SugarCookie

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