A Way to Stop, Drop, and Let Go

I agree, to each is their own. To each is their own life and yes, to each is their own mind, their own heart, and their own air to breathe.
Not to mention, of course, I say that to each is their own right to live up to their own standards. This is true.
To each is the right to live up to our own expectations.
Good or bad.
Pass or fail.
We all have the right to live, think, feel and believe as we choose to. We all have the right to live up to our own limitations, or to exceed them and surpass our best possible dreams and make them even better.

I say this knowing full well that life is a series of everyday choices. No one escapes without a scratch. No one gets away unscathed. As the saying goes, into each life, a little rain must fall.
I know that the average adult mind makes approximately 35,000 decisions in the span of one day. These decisions range from simple to complex.
However, out of the 35,000 choices, we are bound to make a wrong turn or make a mistake, which is fine considering the amount of choices we make in a day.

We can understand this. We can use our compiled data and grow or we can learn from the infected files in our mind, and let the internal virus poison our mental hard drive until we become defective.
Or, we can choose otherwise.

To each is their own.
Understand?

To each is their own experience and to each is their own pathway.
To each is their own right to see, touch, and feel the thrills of life.
I am firmly aware that my life is my own.
I am as I am, and so are you.
We are as we are, which is always open and subject to changes.

I live each day and see new things. I have the ability to notice and to understand. I have the ability to inquire and, yes, I have the right to think and feel as I choose to.
I agree.
To each is their own because to each is their own version of life. And to each is their own version or truth.
To each is their own process and their own pathology, or to each is their own science and personal chemistry.

No two things are alike when it comes to the human mind.
I see what I see. While you and I can look at the exact same thing, you see what you see and we are free to see things differently.

I do not know what the sunset looks like through your eyes nor do I know what it feels like to experience touch from the tips of your fingers.
I have no idea what it means to feel resistance in your muscles and I cannot say that I know exactly what pain feels like to your flesh.

To each is their own.
We are not the same. But we are all similar in the sense that we all have a core and we all see life go by on a daily basis.

I do not know what love is like in your heart. I do not know what you see when you look at someone beautiful and find yourself being swept away or swept off your feet.
I do not know what love at first sight means to you.
But I know what it means when a girl opens the door, and there she is . . .
the most beautiful girl in my world.
I can imagine. I can assume what you think or feel.
I can surmise
I can relate this to what it feels like for me to see someone for the first time and find myself totally and perfectly stolen, as if to be taken by a theft of my heart.
I know what loss feels like to me. I know how fears can cause me to turn around and go back and forth, afraid that I might lose someone or something so great and valuable.
And I know what it is like to be love-crazed and starved and desperate to touch her one more time.
I stand here before you and, willingly, I can tell you that I know how it feels to see someone and be like we were as kids, wild and crazy and uncaring about the consequences because feeling good once is not enough.
No, I want more.
And I want this always.

I can understand fear from an irrational perspective. I can understand the painful natures of overthinking. I know what anxiety feels like, firsthand and, of course, I can say that anxiety and I go back a long time.
Anxiety and I are on a first name basis.
I can say the same thing about resentment. I can say the same things about rage. I can say the same for myself when it comes to finding my thoughts blocked or caged and crippled by some kind of insecure dispute.
I can see what happens when my unfair thinking is stuck in the same habitual rut.
I know what it feels like to think my way into the irrational tail spins of an emotional downfall (or sickness). No differently from drinking myself into a drunken wreck, I understand the unfortunate hangovers that come with the aftermath of my poor choices.

But again, to each is their own. This means that above all, I am here to be accountable for me. I cannot live according to the rights and ideas of someone else. I can certainly listen to thoughts and ideas. I can be inspired to grow and improve. I can look around at the other people in my life and choose to be motivated by my circle of influence.

I can grow and improve or I can choose to die alive.
To each is their own.

I can move, go, be and I am welcome to do as I please. However, when we talk about living our best life and when it comes down to maintaining this life, then I have to choose wisely. I have to make decisions each and every day.

I am certainly welcome to hold my anger and grip the stories of my past as tightly as I want.
I can run the old and unfortunate narratives in my mind. I can examine and overanalyze each and every little thing that takes place.
I can overlook the simple truths, which are that I am alive and well, despite my challenges. I am alive and well, despite my downfalls. And yes, I am alive and well, despite the fact that each and every moment is life on borrowed time.

I can be mad. I can be hateful.
I can live in the past. I can relive every argument and I can pick the scabs of every wound.
I am free to do this at will. Yes, of course, I can choose to keep myself sick—or crazy.

I can overthink my losses. I can focus on my downfalls and consider my battles with rejection.
I can think about the “why me” questions and I can ask myself “how come?” I can compare myself to the world. I have this freedom just as well.
I can spiral myself down through the mindset of a sinking ship—and yes, every man for himself. Or every woman for herself. Or anyone out there is out for themselves.
I can think about the evils of men and women and question every gift and every compliment to pick them apart and make them untrue.

I can do this.
I can look for the cracks in the façade and I can look for the lies and indecencies.
I can focus on the dishonesties of the world, and yes, I can use this to fund my outrage. Even more, I can use this to justify my own hatred. I can allow this to spin the wheels of my own indecencies. In the end, I am free to manifest either the best or the worst in the people I see.

I am free to believe that the world is a scary place. I can believe as I choose. Or I can withstand and endure. Rather than surrender myself to the ugliest truths, I can allow myself the right to persist and consistently come around to a new and better perspective.

I am welcome to keep the ball rolling. I can stay as I choose and live in doubt, or keep my fears alive. While I do this, I can let misery be my primary caretaker, or I can decide to resign my post in this imaginary army.
I can stop, drop, and let go, which means I can surrender to the unchangeable. I can acknowledge what is, accept what has happened, and I can feel and process my emotional content. I can do whatever it takes to grieve, which is my right.
I can be mad and angry and blame the world, or I can say hey, let me learn from this.
Let me change the script.
Let me walk away now and learn to invest my energy where my energy can serve me best.
Let me grow from this.
Let me understand my pain so that I can heal. Rather than allowing my pain to define me, let me improve myself by standing up.
Let me regain my dignity and recover instead of lay on the ground and complain about the way life kicked me when I was down.

I am as I think and I feel as I choose.
I can invest in my losses or look to imrpove and invest in my gains.

I can live in my past and, of course, to each is their own, which means that I have the right to change my direction at any given moment.
No matter what —
No matter how many times I have fallen —
No matter how many times I have been pushed or shoved —

No matter who the villain is, whether this is someone else or even if this is me and myself, included; I have the right to live or die on a daily basis.

I have this right. I have my own way.
I have the right to lament and complain and I can be bitter and unhappy. Or I can choose to change my direction and change position to change my perception.
I can change where I sit or where I stand and give myself a new way of seeing things, simply by opening my eyes and looking for something beautiful.

And love?
Or beauty?

I can say that I see someone more beautiful and warmer than the glow of an evening sunset.
I can feel this inside of me. I understand the fears that perhaps I might not see anything this beautiful again. But ah, at least I can say that I have seen the most beautiful person in the world.
I got to touch the face of someone who inspired me. I got to kiss the lips of someone who is more desirable than any Goddess known in any of the ancient literatures.
I was able to look into the depths of her eyes and feel the blood move through my veins.
I can question this. I can be mad about loss. I can be angry about the things from my past and I am always welcome to feed the beast in my heart and keep the demons from my traumas alive.

I am welcome to quit and to lose my sanity by my own self-propelled madness. Or I can see what I saw and be grateful to know that someone in this world who is more beautiful than any word in any language looked me in the eye, and she smiled simply for me.

I have not loved and lost.
I love. And I will continue to do so over being bitter or speak with contempt.
Going further, I refuse to feed the demons and fuel the beast in my heart because to each is their own. As such, it is my right to learn from this so that I can live and learn how to laugh and love another day.

Nothing is ruined.
Not me.
Not you.
Not us.

Not at all.