2024-04-05 19:56:07
One of the hardest things for me is letting go. To release control, to release beliefs, to release fixations and things that I am used to. To release comfort zones, to release people who did me good and now no longer. To release those who have done me harm and are still present in my life.
The cabinet will meet tonight; Head of Amn Haliva: “It is not certain that the worst is behind us”
It’s hard for me to let go. Not just habits, mostly fears. The logical voice that runs my mind makes it very clear to me that it no longer serves me, that it doesn’t work for me, that I don’t have to carry the whole weight of the illogical fears on myself, just because I feel safe there, like at home. In fact, why feel at home in abject discomfort? Why carry memories that don’t serve me? Why repeatedly stomp on what was and why didn’t we do this or behave differently? It leads nowhere.
Still, you can’t let go of the feeling. I mean, you can. At least that’s what New Age influencers I follow say on Instagram (better than following the news). They say it is possible, if we just try. But it’s hard. really hard Lately it’s been harder for me to let go than ever. Much more than ever. Maybe because I understand that the immediate release of what was is particularly significant, so that it is possible to move on, towards a new, real beginning, without remnants of the past. No tails of holding on to old things. It takes a lot of courage to throw everything away and start over. Sometimes I think I have enough courage, because I think I’ve been through enough in the last year and in general. But sometimes I’m not sure I trained that muscle enough.
Precisely in the moments when I feel strong, can rush forward, I suddenly find myself engaged in the archaeological work of reconstructions. Like it’s my favorite hobby, like painting or dancing. And really, there are days when I feel like an archeologist at a historical site, struggling to find the remains of an ancient pitcher, and trying to stick them together by force, despite the cracks, even though the connections have weakened and it will not be possible to turn it into a vessel for carrying water again.
Archaeologists always stand their ground. Trying to glue broken pieces together to try in the present to reconstruct the past. But in the end the joining of the fragments will never fulfill the purpose for which the item was intended. It will simply rest in a glass cage in a beautiful and modern museum, and will serve as an object of observation for passers-by who will hear past stories about a tool that did a job in the past, is not useful in the present and is not relevant for the future. And me? I was never good at crafts. I have other talents. Plastic art is light years away from me. So why do I still insist on repeating and repeating?
After being busy for too long trying to pick up my pieces, I realized that I just couldn’t build the me I was before. No matter how hard I try to be who I was or who I thought I wanted to be. Let there be no mistakes. Deep inside I didn’t really want to go back to the old me. It’s probably the power of the habit. And suppose I would? I couldn’t really go back, certainly not in this day and age. Certainly not with everything that is happening outside, with everything that I know is happening.
Many people are unable to go back, following the events of the last six months. For me it bubbled up long before that, for all kinds of reasons, global and personal. The last six months only increased these feelings for me. the transience. The fear and excitement that lies in a total change. Maybe that’s why one of the hardest things for me is to release my demons, which have gotten used to living comfortably in a golden cage, because I know there will never be a way back. It is impossible to go back, and trying to re-glue the pieces and expect them to connect in the same way is doomed to failure. I know it’s good that it is, and I’m excited about what’s to come, but sometimes a thought sneaks up on me that whispers to me at night: Mom, what a fear.
#thought #creeps #whispers #night #Mom #fear