A Way to Stop, Drop, and Let Go

I am what I assume is my best version of a normal, everyday, functional but dysfunctional person. I am no different from anyone else who lives and breathes.
I have fears. I have doubts. But I have dreams too. I have love in my heart. I have hopes that come from my soul and, like you or anyone else, I like to see beautiful things.

I have been on a course for a while now. I have changed and aged and I have grown. There are times when I slide backwards or as the old saying goes, there are days when I take one step forward and two steps back.
I have cut my nose off to spite my face or shot myself in the foot, so-to-speak. I have painted myself in corners and have certainly spoken out of turn and out of anger.

There are mornings like this one. The sky is perfect and beautiful. The sun is about to come up and the horizon is showing signs of first light.
I am awake early as usual.
Then again, this is nothing new for me.
I had to put my garbage out before the garbage truck comes.

I ran down from my upstairs apartment and placed my trash at the curb.
But I had to stop. I just had to.
I had to pause for a moment.
I had to look at the sky and notice the colors of dawn.

There is always something beautiful in this world. There is always something to see and, if we are lucky, there is always someone around to point this out.
I am not sure why or when things change.
But they do.
I am not sure how miracles happen.
But I believe in them.
Or maybe I have to.

We are somewhere at the midpoint of something new.
Or maybe this is the tail end of something.
I am here.
Alive and doing fine.

The summer has been hot on this side of Purgatory. The humidity causes the sky to get angry, and the afternoon storms have been heavy, of course.
I suppose this is how Mother Earth comes along to break the tension.
But I don’t mind.
I like the rain. I like storms too.
I like how the rain settle the dusts from our crazy mix-ups. Or if anything, I like how the rain separates me from the moment at hand.
Maybe this is The Almighty’s way of hushing me, at least for the time being.
Maybe this is nature’s way of cleansing the souls, tortured and otherwise.
Maybe this is how Mother Earth chooses to cleanse us from our crazy ideas and let us know that it’s okay to take a break.
We don’t have to be on guard all the time.
Do we?

I am about to depart from my usual routine. My mornings are bound to be different.
And me?
I am about to change my life, once more.
I am about to take a chance at a new beginning.

My yesterdays are not as close as they were.
They are behind me now.
Then again, yesterdays are always behind us.
All I have is now.

I have come here to write to you. But you have changed.
And so have I. You are not the same muse as you used to be.
You are not the same person anymore.
I am not the same either.
Maybe no one is the same.

I have chosen to box up all of the old lies and the bullshit fantasies and toss them in the trash. I left this at the curb with the rest of my lies, or garbage, depending upon semantics.
It’s time . . .

I can see how we keep ourselves locked in turmoil. I can understand why we hold on so tightly to the tiniest remnants of heartache.
I suppose we do this with hopes that maybe an old spark will restart a familiar flame.
But no.
Today is time for something new.

I can see how grieving is a process. I can see how grief can interfere with happiness. And I can see why people fear that they might never be happy again.
Of course, some will never be happy. Some will always be stuck in their perpetual state of grief or loss. Some lie to others. Some lie to themselves. Some people lie to both or to everyone, including themselves.
Some run away. Some will stand their ground.
Some people will be there, no matter what, and some will abandon people or run away at the sight of their own bullshit.
This is true.
Trust me.

I have been the person who stood, and I have been a person who ran away.
I am no better. I am no worse.
After all, I am human.
I am as real as anyone else. As such, I come with hardships and troubles, problems, and past regressions. I come with hang-ups that kept me stuck in a habitual loop.

I am not a stranger to anger. I am capable of losing my temper. I can jump to conclusions with the best of them. And yes, of course, I can let a movie play out in my head better than the director of some tragic film.  

I can be cynical. I can be pessimistic. And sure, the glass is half full.
Okay, fine. But there are times when I wonder where the other half went.
Or why does everyone else’s glass seem fuller than mine.
Is this it?
Is this only me?
Am I alone and if so, is this how I will always be?
Most likely, the answer is no.

I started this journal as a means to document my journey.
But this is what all journals do.

See this? This is my voice.
This is my way to stop myself or remind me to look up at the sky from time to time. This is my way, my path, and my journey. Hence, this is my peace, if I choose to be peaceful.
Nothing goes or moves or comes to pass unless it goes through me. No one is pardoned or forgiven, including myself. No one can come to conclusions for me, and no one can absolve me from myself — except for me.
I know this.

I think about excess and the need for “more.”
I think about the useless and unnecessary fights that we keep alive in our head.
I think about the pain we inflict on us and each other.
I think about the way we hate someone we used to love and say to myself, “What a waste!”
Or what a lie . . .
Either way, waste and lies are all the same.

Trust is a living and breathing thing. Trust can die and yes, trust can be reborn.
Anything worthwhile can be rebuilt.
The same thing can be said about faith. And sometimes, faith is all I have.
Whether I grow or evolve is entirely up to me.

I admit that there are lessons I have learned that I’d have been fine to live without.
But I had a choice in the matters.
Even beautiful people are capable of ugly and dishonest things.
And even the so-called innocent can play me like a fool.

Sure, I’m a fool
I’m a fool because, somehow, I still believe.
I believe despite the odds against me. I believe because even when I find myself in darkness, there is always something beautiful to see.
I swear there is.
Take this morning for example. The sun coming up in a beautiful way. It is late July on this side of Purgatory. I am unsure if my glass is half full or not.
But my coffee cup is empty.
So . . .

We are moving closer to the midway point of summertime.
The month of August always represents the downhill of the season for me.
I am no longer enslaved to my past and yes, my eyes are open enough to see that today is something new.

The sky is beautiful –
and so is this moment between us.

And do you know what?
That’s good enough
(for now).