I’m the worst at letting go. I can’t channel my inner Elsa and just create a snowstorm, letting go of all my inhibitions and worry. Nope, not me.
I can’t seem to let go of the thought that I may never find “my person.” The person that you’re supposed to spend your forever sitting on the couch with, making a family with, cheering on stupid football teams, spending holidays with.. You know, building a life with. The anxious part of my brain tells me that I will never find that person. Honestly, after a slew of “let me take you on one date and never talk to you” and “you looked skinnier in pictures,” you start to lose all hope that one day you may get to have someone who looks at you every morning and admires the creation that God has blessed them with. It happens, I know. Let it come to you, I know. Sleeping alone isn’t all that bad, I know. Sharing a life with someone.. even better.
I can’t let go of the fact that I don’t have a “career.” I work at a clothing store with people that I love. I try to make every person who comes into that store happy, I try to make them remember what they love about themselves, I try to make them feel radiant, the way that someone in the world views them. This is not a career. If making people feel good about themselves was a career, I may actual be able to afford groceries. But, it is not a career, and it’s a choice between paying bills and eating. So, I pay bills. I come to work and make the best of my space.
I can’t get over you leaving me. I don’t know what I could have done to push you so far away from me. I know that I’m emotional, but that is who I am. I’m not scared of how I feel, I’m sorry that you are. I know that we were so far apart for so long, but we had two months left to be apart. In retrospect, I’m glad that you left, I really am. If you hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have had to cry myself to sleep for months. I wouldn’t have lost the family that I had grown to love with all of my heart. I still love them. (Mikey and D, you will always be my family. I love you guys with all my heart. I never got to say thank you for everything you did for me. You are both angels.) Without you leaving, I would have been more concerned with leaving my friends than spending my last amount of time with them and making memories. I wouldn’t have met new people, I would’ve been waiting on the couch for you to call. I’m glad you found your happiness, I never wished anything but that for you. And I love you, not the way I did then, but the way you love old Disney movies- even though the new movies are amazing, you sometimes go back in your VHS collection to visit the old. You watch them and feel nostalgic, but you know the time has passed and you can’t hold on to it. You put your favorite movie back and save it for a time when you need a little bit of a reminder of where you came from.
I can’t let go of my current non-existence of a love life. I have someone who is everything to me, but unless he reads this, he won’t know. I don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s become one of my favorite parts of this crazy life I lead. I haven’t known him that long, but I feel like I’ve known him forever and could continue to do so. It wasn’t forced with him; I fell into the steady groove of coffee shops and jazz music, raspberries that were suspected kisses, a whole lot of weird conversation and trips. I fell into that and now I’m falling into the “give him space” part of the weird un-relationship thing. I keep telling myself “you can’t expect boyfriend things out of someone who is not your boyfriend.” And he is not. And I am not. And we are not. And that is okay. It’s okay because when I wake up in the middle of the night and I can’t sleep, he is there to tell me that everything is fine, kiss my cheek, roll over, and give me the assurance that he will be there when I wake up. It’s okay because sitting my car, listening to music and drinking the most disgusting beer known to man is hilarious and juvenile.. and fun. Watching him do the most simple task and smiling because I know how technical he is, how much he actually may have liked fixing the doors that I continually mess up (really, it’s an accident every time.) It’s okay because I know that when he leaves, he will leave with dignity. He won’t leave without saying goodbye, or without an explanation. When he leaves, he’ll leave with my heart fully attached to his black polo sleeve and I will wave to my heart and say “take care, old friend.” I don’t want to let go of this, but if I have to, I will. And if you read this by chance or by design, know that I’m better on putting things in print than in person. I tried to tell you, but I’m terrified. If you have to leave after this, I will not beg you to stay, even though I’d love nothing more. You change my life every day and I hope that I bring a little sunshine to yours.
You can’t spend all of your time waiting to let go. I can’t wait for someone to love me, i can’t wait for a career, can’t wait for you to come back, (actually, please don’t) can’t wait for you to see how much I care about you.
These things eat me up inside daily, I have to let them go. The baggage that we all carry is enough to sink the Titanic, and we continue to add bags until we ourselves cannot begin to pick it all up and carry it. Match your baggage with someone else and you have no room to breathe, to laugh, to fall in love, to be scared with the person, to let them take care of you and vice versa.
It’s hard to let go of your baggage. Letting go leads to the unknown, and we’re all scared of that, aren’t we? I’m letting go because my spirit is heavy. I cannot live in the sunshine and swim in the sea with this baggage surrounding me. So, I’m letting go. I’m forgiving, reliving, becoming unrelenting in the pursuit of drifting in the sea of greatness to come.