A Way to Stop, Drop, and Let Go

I often wonder . . .

If you could remove any concern or if you get rid yourself of any worry, then I would ask you what would it be?
What would it look like if there was no more irrational fear?
Yes, I say irrational fear because fear itself is not a problem, nor is fear problematic.
Fear is good.
Fear is healthy.
Fear is an excellent motivator too.

Fear can be the exact thing that pushes us to perform or to go, or be, or to do because one fear that can be the biggest of all is the fear of loss.

And yes, I am afraid.
Of course, I am afraid to lose you.
I am afraid that I am not beautiful.

I have been alive for more than five decades. Much of this has been without you. Much of my time was spent elsewhere or spent with people, places, and things that were not aligned with my best possible interests.
But this is not about that.

I am certainly not lost, nor have I found all the missing pieces to my puzzle.
I am far from being at my worst. But I am not at my best either. Therefore, all I can say is that I am moving and gaining speed and working on myself. I do this each morning, and every day, one letter, one word, one sentence, and then one paragraph at a time.

I have been at this for a very long time. Then again, you already know this about me. I have been learning and growing. I have slid backwards and reverted back to old ideas and old thoughts and old ways of thinking. None of which were helpful to me.

I go back to my original question.
If I could remove a concern or fear, what would it be?
What could I get rid of that would help me live a better life.

Or as it pertains to the title of this journal, if anything, what could I get rid of that would help me stop, drop, and let go of? What could I let go of that would offer me the chance of living my best possible life?

This is a great question.
Is it fear?
is it my worries about rejection or the rejections which I’ve had to endure?
Is it the impending doom that something can and will go wrong?
Is it the worries I have about my inadequacies or is it my educational insecurities?
Is it me?
Is you?

The best words I have ever heard came from the most beautiful place. This came from the most beautiful person in this world has ever seen.
She is amazing to me.
“No one is laughing at you.”
“And no one thinks you’re stupid.”
“NO ONE!”

I go to the idea now, which is nearly as brilliant and as beautiful as the source of the above:
Imagine the possibilities.
Imagine the life you want.
Imagine the way this looks to you.

Imagine the source inside of yourself. Imagine wellspring, which is you and your true spirit.
Or since this is me and you are the mirror of my truth at heart; and since you are the eyes of my soul in which I can see myself, then I say this as in fully and truly, or honestly . . .
I say this with all of my being.

Imagine the endlessness of purity.
Imagine the wherewithal to understand that no one else can dictate or determine the direction of my life, except for me.
Life will change and so will its components and so will the people, places and things.
Everything is subject to change.
I understand this.
However, my inner peace does not have to change just because change exists.

Look in the mirror. What do you see?
This tells us everything.
Doesn’t it?

I am not one for pictures and I am not one who can look in the mirror without criticism.
I can’t look in the mirror for very long.
That is, if I’m being honest.  

I am my toughest critic. Yes, I agree.
This is true.
I see my invisible scars and the shame of my past. I see intrusions and I see my sins. I see the hurtful and the regrettable yesterdays which carry their weight and hold me down. I see the chains that keep me from moving forward.

I see questions.
I see doubts and fears.
Yes, I do.
I see a series of programed thinking that leads me to believe that the way I am is terminally unmatchable or essentially unlovable or unworthy of all.
And yes, I agree this comes off sad and this portrays me as off-putting or too extreme and critically punishing to my own heart.
But I am not here for the food and friends. I am here to put in work.
No, wait.
I am here to set myself free. I am here to find you and to set the record straight.
I am here to rethink myself and therefore, I am here to recreate myself.

Imagine how we would see our reflection if our toughest critic became our biggest cheerleader.
Maybe this is why you are so important to me.
Or maybe this is why I am afraid to lose you or let go.
Maybe you are more than all of this, and to me, maybe you are like a visit from a butterfly.
Do you understand the value of visits like this?
Maybe you are some kind of gift from the heavens and the souls above who know us best and have caused us to meet. Maybe this is why you are a reminder to me of the red-tailed hawk, which flies over us as an eye from above.

You are a reminder.
You are a voice that defies the lies I often believed in.
Maybe it’s the way you look at me.
Maybe it’s my reflection in your eyes and maybe it’s the way you hold me accountable for my truth.

Or maybe this is why I am afraid too. I am afraid because I see this as a burden and yet, I see you as a source of light that exposes my darkness.
Maybe my fear is about the work you expose because maybe your presence shows me that I can do better and that I can be better.
I just have to stop the excuse machine.
I have to stop allowing myself to slip down the spiral or lose to my thinking.
Yes, I lose to my thinking the same way water loses to the drain.
I say this all the time.

Maybe I am afraid because I am not living up to my best potential and rather than change my direction, I react like an infant and throw tantrums like a toddler for not getting my way.
Then I see you looking at me and I know, deep down, my acts or my behavior is unacceptable.
You expose the truth that I can do better. But I have accepted myself as subpar, which is also unacceptable.

Maybe I see you and I worry that I am unworthy of you. Or I worry that someone else will grab your eye and they will be more worthwhile than me.
Or maybe this is a prison. Maybe this is tied to old ideas and old memories that went unresolved for too long. Henceforth, maybe the inaccuracies in my reflection cause me to miscalculate your intention. And thus, I am limited by my selective hearing or reading of your message.

How can any prince be a prince to his princess or how can a king be a king to his queen if he sees himself as no better than a peasant or a commoner, or a jester at best?

I look to the shore. I look at the seaside and I look at the outgoing fishing boats and the ships as they leave the inlet at Point Lookout.
I look at this and I can see my heart.
I can see my church and my sanctuary of peace.
I can see my soul and my hopes, my dreams, and my aspirations which are high like the clouds and lofty like the appeals of heaven.
I can see this and if I were to have all of this, I would only offer this to you and ask that you share this with me, please. I’d ask this because what would this be worth if I would to have this alone and with no one (like you) to share this with.

I see this the same way I see you or the look in your eyes. I am sorry if this is a burden or too intense. I am sorry if you fail to know or see yourself as “that beautiful.”
(or sexy)
I am sorry that no one has ever told you any of these things and I am even more sorry or sorrier to know that you have lived this long yet no one pointed out the angel-like approach you have or that your smile has wings or how your touch saves lives.
And your eyes?
Well, your eyes are the mirror of your soul, which is why I am afraid of what I see.
I am afraid of what you might see.

But still, this is me . . .

I know this is only you being you, which is beautiful. I know this can be uncomfortable or somewhat difficult to hear because what if these are only words?
What if this sounds like pressure because what if you fall short of this estimation?
But no, these are not just words.
And you could never fall short of who you are.
Not now. Not ever.
Do not be afraid that you would fall from this height in fear that you would be common or regular.
No.
Nothing about you could ever be common or least of all regular.

I don’t know much.
Maybe it’s the sound of your voice. Or maybe it’s the attraction I feel when I see you in my dreams. Or maybe it’s the needs I have to be “the one” who touches you or rests on your pillow.
Maybe I want to be like the prince to his princess or the king to his queen.

There is so much that I want to show you . . .  
. . . but my fears are that I am too small and I have little to offer.

Imagine life without worries like this.
Imagine the possibilities.
I have earned my spot here.
I know this.
I never stop myself. I refuse to try not to cry or share my feelings in fear that I am weak or sounding like some stupid kid.
And yes, I am a kid at heart.
More so around you. This is for sure.

I do not run away from my emotions anymore.
No.
I run towards them because I want to be better.
I want to be free.
With all of my heart, I want to be the person of my dreams.
That’s all.
Sometimes, you have to understand how to let go so you can have everything you want.

I don’t know much, but somehow . . .
I believe.