When there is nowhere left to fall or when there is nowhere else to turn, and when there is no more room for excuses and no more time, no more energy, and when there is nothing left but the harsh reality of “what is,” at least now, we can grow from here.
Since I am calling this journal “The Book of When?” then it is important to talk about the moments when life is not what we wished it would be.
I think we need to answer the unanswerable questions, which is when does life get easier? Or does life get easier?
Or is life easy to begin with? Maybe life is only life and everything we see or think is more imaginary than we realize; hence, we create these monsters and demons, merciless as ever.
Maybe this is only me. Maybe this is only you.
Or maybe life is like it was told about a program that I am all too familiar with, in which it is commonly called “a simple program for complicated people.”
Maybe . . .
I have heard people discuss the saying, “back to square one.” I have heard from people who had to start over, or from people who lost everything, who lost love, who lost family, and I have also heard from people who have lost their jobs or their homes, or their life as they knew it.
For them, it was back to square one.
Perhaps I am not the only one familiar with this place, square one.
Back to the beginning.
I have listened to people who found themselves bankrupt, and I mean this in every sense of the word, from emotionally to spiritually, and from financially to socially. For them, it was back to square one.
I have been a person who has lost and won, and I have been someone who has been able to ride the waves and yes, I am equally someone who crashed into the angry tides of a rocky shoreline.
I have heard the saying, “ride the wave,” which means enjoy things while they lasts because every wave has a beginning, a middle, and an end.
This is life.
Life has a beginning, a middle, and an end.
This has nothing to do with the definition of being alive; however, being alive, and I mean truly alive is what we need to do, by any means, between the beginning and the end.
I am someone in the world, no different from anyone else. I am alone. I am in the company of greatness. I am in the company of strangers. And yes, I am in the company of enemies too.
I have strengths and weaknesses. I have good memories and bad. I have been the victim of both love and hate. I have seen the highlights of great things as well as the low times of heartbreaks and disappointments. And yes, I have had to go back to square one, more times than I can count.
But –
When there is no where left to go, no further to fall, and no place else to turn, and when there is no more room for denial and no more ways to rationalize the lies which you hoped you can make come true, at least now, you’ll know where you stand.
You might not like it . . .
You might not know what was true before. And you might not know if what happened was real or just words or just pretend.
But when the reality hits and when you see the truth and when there are no more ways to keep the dream alive—at least you know that it’s time to surrender what was, so you can bury the death of your dream, and dream for something new.
But, was it real? Was anything true?
Was anything real or true to me?
This is the real question.
Even if everything was a lie from the outside, or if everything was just pretend or fantasy, and if the bad outweighed the good or if the good outweighed the bad, in the end, none of this matters.
All that matters is now.
Do I –
Go back?
Move forward?
Do I –
Try again?
Try something different?
Do I –
Follow my heart and refuse my mind?
Should I allow myself the right to grieve?
And thus, I can heal beneath the light of something new
(or real).
When there is no more room to deny the truth and when you are ready to accept reality as it is, and when you find yourself in the pits and fighting hard, just to stay alive, then fine.
So be it.
It hurts. It kills.
Right?
Like knives in the back.
Like needles in the eyes who witnessed the theft of souls.
It stings.
But fine.
So be it.
I am not willing to accept that which does not belong to me.
I am not willing to allow for excuses.
I am not willing to allow myself to sink or submit.
Nor am I willing to believe that what I dream cannot be real
(or belong to me).
And so, when there is no room left to fall, and when your back is at the ground, now is the time to get up.
Stand up.
Stop looking for the person to blame.
Forget about the outside accountabilities.
Get your bearings.
And get back to life.
I am a person who understands loss.
I understand heartache.
I am both a victim, a perpetrator, and a volunteer when it comes to matters of a broken heart.
I am guilty of all I’ve condemned.
I am no better.
(And neither are you, or anyone else, for that matter.)
I am me though, and at least I tried.
At least I can say that I stood up instead of slipped away or hid behind fears.
I stood boldly in the face of an unlikely hope.
And sure, I might have lost.
But I would have already lost if I never dared anyway.
So then?
Nothing was lost.
(At least not by me.)
I can say that I am wrong. I can say that I have done wrong. I can say that I have done hurtful things—and I have said hurtful things.
I can say that I am unforgivable in some ways yet, whether I am forgiven or pardoned, or whether I am alone, in good company or even if I find myself a stranger in familiar territory, at least I know where I am. At least I know where I stand now.
At least I know who is real—and who is not.
I know who is there for me—and who isn’t.
It is not sad or unfortunate or unhappy to come to the realization that someone or something is not what was expected. Instead, it is only a moment of awareness. It’s just a turning point. It’s another day in the life. In the end, all this means is I am working towards a new destination, and hopefully this one will come with better hopes and brighter ports. I say this because I have come to the readiness and to the commitment that I will no longer settle for a life less-desirable; therefore, there will never be a time when I seek any port in the storm. No, I’ll brave the storm and take what comes, alone, in good company, as a stranger in a strange land or a stranger amongst friends.
This is square one.
No, I am not where I thought I was going to be. I am not where I wanted to be and then again, I am not who I was either, which means I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Should I choose to look upwards, I can see that I was unfit for my previous place. And so, let me find my place now, from the bottom of the hill, from square one, or from wherever.
Let me go.
I am as real as they come and I am as flawed as anyone else. I am just as afraid, if not more. To be honest, I am lost, found, in search and seeking. But at the same time, at least for now, I am awaiting the first light, which is later in the morning than a few weeks ago before the summer began to descend to the month of August.
Autumn will be here soon.
This September will mark my anniversary of 52 times around the sun. That means I have managed to survive for 52 years. I have done this alone. I have done this in the good company of others. I have been a stranger in familiar territory. I have taken the waves and crashed softly in the sands and I have crashed hard against the rocks.
I have seen great things and bad things, and I have felt the thrill of amazing moments as well as the pains of heartbreaking times.
None of this makes me special.
None of this makes me different.
All this does is prove that when there is no where left to turn and when there is no more energy and no more strength in my legs, good or bad, right or wrong, at least for the last (almost) 52 years, I have managed to stand back up, rebuild, destroy, and rebuild again.
But –
When there is no more room to excuse the obvious and when there is no way left to deny what’s happening—at least I know where I am.
And, at least I am not living a lie or a sad life with the wrong people.
At least I know where I stand. And that might not always be an easy thing or an enjoyable one—but I swear, not knowing where I stand (or if I fit or I’m enough) is the worst, and being in limbo, or holding on, just in case—I swear, nothing is worse than this.
Nothing is worse than allowing oneself to be open or vulnerable to love and hope and find out that the truth went unreturned.
But, so be it.
At least I can say I took the risk.
When there’s no more room for hope, then there is only time to work
When the time is like this, then the time is now.
Now is the time to recalibrate, or to restore my stride, and to rekindle my dreams of taking that drive in that red convertible, real or not, because even if I go alone, then so be it—at least I know who is with me and who isn’t.
Someone once read a post of mine and asked me if I was okay.
I responded that, “I’m okay. Why do you ask?”
They answered, “because that post of yours was sad.”
I said, “to you, maybe.”
But to me, it was more like a wakeup call—
To me, I see moments of honest realization and allowing oneself the right to restore my spirits by understanding a constructive conclusion is not sad. No.
Not at all.
I say this is brave. I say this is hard.
I say that this is the toughest thing anyone can do for themselves.
(Or has to)
It’s okay to be honest about what you think and how you feel.
No one has to like it.
No one has to agree.
Besides, this isn’t written for “them” anyway.
No –
This is written for me.
So, when there’s nowhere left to go –
there’s only one way to go forward –
and that’s what I’m here to do.
Alone. In good company. As a stranger.
Or in any way that I am or choose to be—
Now is the time to make moves.
Yesterday is gone.
And so is all that went with it is gone too.
Right?
The Written Addiction 