I cannot utter the first four words of that sentence without swiftly following them up with the latter three. It’s like an incomplete statement if I don’t. Unfortunately that sentence often only comes out to play when there is some decision I need to make or unpleasant action to be undertaken and I am girding my loins to take it. Procrastinating is the other thing that comes out.
‘Girding the loins’; who does that nowadays? Moving on…
The time has come, some three months after beginning this, to return to life as I once knew it. Time to leave my sanctuary, my bolt-hole and rejoin the society I have left behind for over quarter of a year. And I just don’t really want to. Oh, it’s not fear of what has changed since I have retreated, it’s not even worry about how I will slot back into the place I left behind because that would all too easy to do. It’s not even concern over whether there is a place for me the way I left things or whether the tide has come in and washed away the footprints I left behind. No. My trepidation is due to the fact I know I’m not the same person as when I left. And I have no intention of fitting neatly back into the sunken hole I left behind.
Upon my departure I was sick. Not in an infectious, illness kind of way no, but more in a withheld, withdrawn, incapable kind of way I can only see now with hindsight. For two years I have been a shade of me with tranquillised edges. Now, I can feel again beyond the L5/S1 vertebrae and have found that desire to keep feeling this way for the foreseeable future.
Not only that, this is the most I’ve exercised in a long time and I’m actually enjoying it. Who knew recovery could be so damn good for you!
Having avoided looking at what makes me unhappy – beyond that vertebrae combination – for some time [the only attempted foray into it ending in disaster from some dubious decisions, calling into question my confidence in my own judgement – all in all a depressing and counter-productive exercise], the time to confront what has dropped me lower than the stereotypical Essex girl’s knicker elastic has been more than a little terrifying. But also incredibly enlightening. As a wise and trusted friend has told me on more than one occasion, ‘you cannot change other people’s actions, only your own and how you react to others.’ Looking at what makes me unhappy has also made me face what truly makes me happy and how much I have been neglecting the positive in my life without meaning to. And as Nickelback have taught me, ‘It’s hard to see through bullshit when it’s up above your eyes’. I was in fact a self-fulfilling prophesy and now I see that, it has fulfilled its last
Mm, to the crux of the matter. This is something I have forgotten recently and have frequently rearranged my plans to suit anyone else’s intentions rather than my own. And this is something I have recently decided need an overhaul.
I have always believed that the word ‘selfish’ gets a bad rap. To be selfish is defined as being ‘concerned primarily with one’s own interests’, which so many people would agree is a horrible way to live and that selfish people alienate people, lose friends and will in general die lonely and alone because they have lived their lives purely for their own gain to the detriment of all others.
However at this juncture I would beg to differ. At what point did making yourself a priority become an evil to rival the seven deadly sins? Since when did putting yourself first become behaviour worthy of disgust? And just when and where is it written that you must, at all times, put the needs and desires of others before yourself in order to avoid committing such an immoral taboo? Believe me, I am just as anti ‘selfish, self-centred, unrealistically full of their own self-importance twats’ as the next person but to be perfectly frank; if we’re not selfish once in a while who else exactly is going to primarily concerned with one’s own interest? Because it sure as hell isn’t going to be anyone else is it?
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. But a little further knowledge is always appreciated. From time to time I look at myself and wonder if I have it wrong. I thought I knew me pretty well but time and perspective has made me realise I’ve underestimated a fair few points about me that actually should be considered important. It doesn’t matter what they are and quite frankly it’s not anyone else’s business but there is never anything wrong with a little extra insight into your own world.
I have changed in three months, to the extent when I’m starting to like myself again. I’m not the person I left behind and I have no intention of return to her sorry shell. I’m perhaps apprehensive, maybe sometimes anxious, a touch tentative and possibly even a little scared of what is to come.
But the one thing I am not doing, is hiding from it any more.