Thursday, September 24, 2009

Samsonite? I was WAY off...

Some days I feel like a hypocrite. I find myself doling out sound advice, like the psychological expert. I can read other people, even those I've never met with great skill. Assess things from the outside looking in, and know in an instant what needs to be done. Know they need to move on, give up, keep trying, let go.

Why can't I do this when it comes to my own life?

I know instantly when other people have issues. I am great at concentrating on other people's problems. Perhaps as deference to my own. They say that a psychologist often see's their own because their own personal demons often led them to their career. Maybe I chose the wrong profession.

I sat this morning on the phone with a friend and counseled them on the toxic people they surrounded themselves with. The seeping nature in which this vile and nasty back-story then plunged into every future relationship they had, poisoning every hope of normalcy they aimed for.

As I hung up, I sat dumbfounded. I was no better really. I too held on to so much. I carry the weight of so much that plagued me. Find my self surrounded by the emotional equivalent of Samsonite, heavily laden in pile after pile.

I can give advice, I can see clearly what others have to do, and yet live my own with blinders on. Like a horse on a one way track in a race, going in circles with no finish. Only I have no jockey, I am riding solo.

How do you change? How do you learn to heed your own advice? To see that you have to let go, to move on?

Perhaps if I clone myself, if I have a mirrored self to identify exactly what it is I'm not letting go of, to see what it is I am so afraid of. A part of me knows sure, but is that all? Is there more? If I start will Pandora's Box be opened? A never-ending surge of back peddling emotions that will rise to the surface, and then what?

Maybe letting go of all the baggage is easier when you're just you. But having a carry-on makes it more difficult...

My fear isn't so much for myself, but for my son. To see him hurt, to see him have to deal with whatever I have had to, or he has had to again, would destroy me. Moreover would destroy whoever hurts him because I would make them suffer, undoubtedly.

If I can just let go of the fear, of the jaded misconception that everyone is out to get me, to hurt us, perhaps I would let someone in...maybe let them lend a hand in carry all this luggage, because frankly, it's hard to juggle with just two hands.

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