(Yes, that new new. Had this on my mind for a minute. Every person can relate. Yes, even you...)
The past six months in my life have been about purging people and situations from my life that have been toxic for me. Achieving peace by getting rid of things that disturbed me in some way. A lot of these situations were of my own doing. What I mean is that I had exits and I didn’t take them, causing myself more confusion and pain. In the case of the more recent exoduses, I put myself through drama that I didn’t have to because I rendered myself voiceless. I didn’t defend or support myself. I turned myself into a punching bag.
So now that I’m growing spiritually and mentally, I’ve realized my weaknesses and have worked on addressing them. One is that I turn every relationship (the very basic definition) into a revolving door. I was very allergic to walking away. I’d go back. Didn’t matter when, it would happen. Seasonal relationships would turn into pseudo-lifetime, if I could have it my way. So I am proud to say – knock on wood – that I’ve walked and haven’t turned back.
That’s not saying that chances to reverse course haven’t happened. A text here, a tweet there, a phone call here, a run-in in the streets of DC there. It’s the cosmos’ way of testing your G. Will you stay or will you go? Will your pounding of the pavement mean anything?
I’m a firm believer that the person that walks away should be the leader of reconciliation. If that person feels as it’s time to move on and they don’t move backward, it’s dead. Even if that person feels as if they were done dirty, if they want things to continue regardless of past behavior, they introduce the idea of patching things up. What tends to happen to me (and what causes the guilt trip and the backpedaling) is when the person you left wants you back around.
It’s flattering, I can’t front. The feeling of being missed is golden at times. You want someone – in a Hollywood way – to show that they can’t function without you. But in reality, it makes you feel awful and you just go back, regardless if you had a legitimate reason to step away. It’s the whole “I must have meant something! Let me be meant!” thing. You want someone to want you, even if it’s a means to hurt you – or hurt yourself – again.
I think the reason I’ve been good about walking away and keeping it that way is that I’ve been able to conceptualize my pain. I used to be ambivalent to a lot of my behavior. Conscious of it? Sure. Aware of its possible emotional effect? Maybe. Strong enough to acknowledge my emotions to myself? Ehh. Able to feel SOMETHING about what I may have done? Nope. “It is what it is” was my emotional mantra. The moment I was able to feel that pain and acknowledge its existence was when things started to change. It was the moment when I realized that certain situations had to cease because “Ciara’s not feeling right”. Before, I didn’t used to feel.
So now that I feel, I can walk away. You gotta get a feeling in your legs before you walk, right?