Week Eleven: On Anger, Honesty, and Home

Today, I don't want to write. I don't want to put my hands to a keyboard and talk about my week or talk about my struggles or talk about the many ways in which I am just a person--faults and all. But I know that I have to. Because while this project is an experiment in working towards my own happiness, there is an underlying fear that the moment I talk about failure, it's already over. I've been beaten by my own lack of ability, by my own deficiencies as a person, as a friend, as a daughter. 

This week started out just fine, honestly, it did. Truthfully, there was nothing even noteworthy about this earlier part of this week even worth mentioning. Just work, work, and more work. Though believe me when I say that of all the things happening in my world right now, work is the least stressful of them all. 

And then it happened. 

I can't really talk about what "it" is because it's not my story to tell. And I wish I could. There's some vindictive part of me, a part of me that when its been summoned from the depths of anger and hatred is a force to be reckoned with, that wants to put on display the many roots of my struggle this last Thursday. But I can't. For one, it's not morally right to do so. Perhaps if I were a more spiteful person, I would put this story on display for everyone to see, public humiliation style, and reap the benefits of justification. But it's not productive. It would just be mean. And despite the popular opinion of some of the folks in my life, I'm not a mean person. Though I am an honest one, which can be interpreted as mean depending on the circumstance. 

Honesty, as previously mentioned on Week Seven, is my go-to policy for nearly everything. I believe in speaking the truth at all costs. In my opinion, honesty is the best and truest way to love someone--whether they be family, friend, co-worker, stranger. Now of course I understand that there are times when it is not appropriate to do so. Sometimes I have to ask myself "Is what I'm about to say productive? Is it loving? Will anything change?" If the answer to any of those questions is rooted in anything other than love, then it's probably not worth saying. But this week, it was. The words that fell out of my mouth, though covered and rolled in anger, were nothing but truthful. I stick by it. Doesn't mean other folks have to and that's the downside of honest communication--it's not always understood or reciprocated. 

So, I'll just sit and stew. Here's what I can tell you: the search for a home for me and Isabelle (my sweet and loving and protective and intuitive dog who always know when I need extra snuggles) has been amplified ten-fold. Where I am now isn't healthy for reasons that aren't mine to discuss. On that front, I am furiously hoping that something becomes available soon that meets my needs both personally and financially. Because I haven't been working long enough to save up much for rent and a deposit, it'll be quite tough to find. But it has to be out there. It has to. 

Earlier today, I had to make a trip to Colorado Springs to pick up a few things from my BFF's old house. She just moved to California and left a handful of things behind, of which I was privy. Honestly, I mostly offered to go because I knew she left behind a small handheld Rug Doctor and having one of those things around for spot cleaning when you have an animal is handy AF. On my way back, I decided on a quick detour to see one of my other BFF's and her husband. Among the thousand things I appreciate about Lauren is her ability to always tell me exactly what I need to hear. When we were talking about the events of this week, she said something to me, and I'm paraphrasing here "You get what you give". If I want to make the most of my life, the most of my last year of my twenties, then I have to invest in making those things happen. Sometimes, that means pulling yourself up by the britches and saying "Alright, today might suck but it will suck less if you get up, put on a happy face and make the best of it" and sometimes that means letting go the unhealthy bits in your life. Letting go of the things, or sometimes people, that hold you back. 

I'm choosing to do the latter. At the end of the day, when all is said and done, sometimes loving someone means letting them go and stepping away. And that's what I'll have to do. 

Till next week, friends.