I Just Can’t Find The Strength To Pull You Up And Keep You Taut
Monday: "Fed up though you may be with a situation, you must not feel that all is hopeless. Far from it. There is a very encouraging development taking place. You are, in one way, rather like a runner in a race that has ended. You have passed the winning post. You ought to be on your way up to the box to claim your medal. You have, though, developed such determination to win that you can’t stop rushing, even though there’s no further need. You don’t believe this? Then watch what the world shows you now."
Tuesday: "When is enough, enough? When it is beginning to become too much. When any more would be a problem. When you already have all you need. That’s all obvious enough. So why do any of us ever end up with too much of anything? Usually, it is because we still fear that we don’t have enough of it. We want more, to be on the safe side or to protect ourselves from a possible subsequent loss. The trouble is, when you have a surplus of one thing, you invariably end up with a shortage of another. A rebalancing needs to take place now. Jupiter, Neptune and Chiron are now forming a rare, powerful triple conjunction."
Why do we get the past stuck in our minds? I do my fair share of looking back, wondering if it should stay there. The urge to say what was never said, the fear of the consequence of stirring settled dust to find the clean surface under it. Sometimes I wonder what all of that is good for. I wonder why part of me so actively seeks out the closure; why part of me is still so attached. I don’t know how I’m supposed to close a door on some things that run so deep. There are things I wish I’d said, things I wish I could take back, and things that I wish I’d never gone through. Change one thing; change everything. I can’t do that. Maybe now, after all this time, all picking at the scab would do is expose the wound. That’s how the wastebasket fills with words.
A recent conversation with my Mother-In-Law exposed these thoughts, and they’ve stuck with me for the day or two following. I am fairly forthcoming about my family history, as sometimes my reactions surprise people, including me. I yearn to be understood. I don’t think people are comfortable confronting the monster that is my past, a monster that is all too common. People like to pretend that everything is normal and functional. But there is more breakdown.
The memory of her kept me up until 20 to 5 in the morning. John woke up and was concerned that I seemed so pensive. I’ve had a long few years with more heartache than I thought one person could ever bear. It changed my world, my universe, it changed me down to my core. It shook me, almost to pieces. And she had the nerve to apologize, to try and slough away her guilt with some second-rate apology, as if what she did to me could ever be forgiven. I’ve forgiven a lot of things and a lot of people. This grudge, this hatred, this blame, this is mine to hold onto. And my forgiveness of her will only ever come when she has paid a price for what she stole from me– when she loses her home, her life savings, her best friend, her family, her hope and her will to live. Only when she is inches from death as the cost for what someone else has stolen from her will I have the will to forgive her. Then, and only then. She doesn’t need my forgiveness. She needs to forgive herself.
People like her, people who like her, they are all poison. And I will do whatever is in my power to remove poisonous people from my life.