Sunday clarity; all the rest left unsaid.

Sunday, June 22^nd

Today was more clarity, more reality, more persistence, more confidence, more security in knowing that I have made every right decision that needed to be made at any specific given time in my life. I have loved hard and I have fought hard, when those two things were required and allowed. I have spoken more than enough words, worn my heart on my sleeve for more than enough years, and projected my true emotions in more than enough occasions. None of that is necessary. I have done that, I am not ashamed of doing that. But it is no longer required. There are a million and one things I could say, a million and one things I have felt the fleeting urge to say, but none of it is necessary, none of it is required, none of it is even worth it. Things can be kept to yourself, some things even should be. Because surely, in a few hours time, you won’t even feel those things anymore. And when detachment becomes a well-fostered habit, it doesn’t even take hours before feeling so grateful that nothing was said and nothing was done.  

For someone who has lived her whole entire life on words, on crafting them to perfection, on shaping them into foundations for each and every action taken, priding herself in her ability to unveil the most powerful of dictation or diction (essentially at the snap of a finger), this is not something that should be taken lightly: this idea that I for the first time in my life, do not feel the need to express myself, to gather the most perfect words to play my next move to, to take my next step loudly and proudly and confidently with many vigorous adjectives and adverbs. {I do recognize the irony here, but this kind of expression, self-expression, unto myself and no named other, that is allowed, and amply encouraged}

If it was not meant to be, it does not require any painful declaration of that, nor any explanation that will inevitably only make things feel worse. Instead, I choose not to make it worse. I choose to recognize that a situation such as this, 8 full months later, should not alter either way, whether I were to plead my case one last brave time, or simply fade into the distance, the past, because that would just be easier. Cleaner. Kinder.

That is what I choose. I acted, I spoke, I loved, I begged, I grew, I proved myself. Now I choose not to have to do those things. I choose to believe that someday, exactly when it should happen, I will encounter some part of my life that will never require me to have to do those things. I feel I fought a fair fight and for that, I am okay with defeat. I have not lost the parts of myself that have come to be the most important to me. I still find my reasons to smile, I still feel balanced, I still recognize the small moments of my day when I am at peace.

As Derrick Shepherd says, “Peace is an impermanent state. It exists in moments, fleeting, gone before we even knew it was there. We can experience it at any time; in a stranger’s act of kindness, a task that requires complete focus, or simply the comfort of an old routine. Everyday, we all experience these moments of peace. The trick is to know when they’re happening, so we can embrace them; live in them. And finally, let them go.”

I am choosing to embrace this, I am learning to let it go.