Tonight a dear friend of mine sent me a text message asking for a bit of outside perspective on the perils of #dating. After a bit of a pep talk, explaining that sometimes the responses he’s receiving are totally normal and valid, and promising that he is a catch and any girl would be lucky to have him – I switched my tune.

When his response of it being difficult to accept it’s nothing personal, when it happens all the time came through. I then questioned my own answer and double-backed asking him why he even wanted to get close to someone. Getting close to someone means you’re vulnerable. Getting close to someone means you expose parts of you that maybe you yourself haven’t even come to terms with.

And maybe sometimes those parts of you that you’ve tried so hard for so long to shove deep back down into the depths of your soul that they came from…
…sometimes those are the parts that are forcing you to push people away in order for you to find yourself again. 

And it’s not always fun. Actually, it’s never fun to realize that it’s not a healthy way of handling things and the way you had been handling things simply means you don’t. You don’t handle them at all.

Listen, I’ve been through some shit. I’ve done some shit, seen some shit, and experienced some shit. And for the longest time, I’ve never really dealt with it. I just fill my head with Pinterest quotes and never actually do the work to make me feel like those Pinterest quotes tell me I can feel like.

THE SHIT LIST
I’m a felon.
I was sexually assaulted.
I was abused, physically and emotionally by someone who’s supposed to protect you.
I’ve been to jail (obviously).
I’ve witnessed an attempted suicide and also prevented an attempt of suicide.
I’ve been blamed for said suicide attempt.
I’ve done drugs (this is very minor, in comparison to some).
I was there when the worst mass shooting of modern history occurred (comparatively speaking to some, my experience was nothing).
I’ve broken hearts.
I’ve had my heart broken.
I’ve broken my own heart.

As previously stated – I’ve got some shit on that list that I’ve never sat with or dealt with. Matter of fact…yeah, none of it.

I guess my point is – we are all broken. Some of us in different ways, some of us in similar ways, some of us in worse ways. But one thing my friend told me after I requested he not let me bring him down with my shitty attitude currently to the prospect of undying love with a soulmate, he told me that I needed to continue to share. Now, whether or not he meant my journey to healing myself from my own self was what he meant by sharing – I feel the need to write some shit down.

So, that’s the point of all of this. Alongside my therapist and my tribe, I’ve got to work some shit out. Plus…writing is therapeutic. And who knows. Maybe whoever reading this will get something out of it, too.

I really don’t know anything. All I know is that it’s a process, and it’s okay that I cried most of the day, lost my shit a couple times, and cried for three hours straight in my room – it’s part of the process. And like my therapist said –

“it’s not something we “fix” about ourselves, it’s something we learn to understand plays a part. It all plays a part. The point is to figure out what the part is and allow balance to come.” – Vanessa Smith Bennett

For fucks sake – doesn’t that sound lovely?
Balance and peace are what I’m searching for.

It’s time to do the work. And remember:

There’s always a silver lining if you look hard enough. Even when it’s cloudy out.