Letting go can feel so bleak. No matter how you slice it, it’s never something you can get used to doing.
I’m the type of person that letting go is hard for me to do. I keep to myself a lot, and I like to keep a small amount of people around me.
This small circle is filled with valuable family members and friends who have been strongholds in my everyday journey towards being a better person.
When you reach a point where someone has become a bastion to your everyday routine, it can feel like a fundamental piece of your normality has been torn away when you’ve come to realize that a part of your life needs to be let go of for the sake of your well-being.
It feels weird. There is a lingering emptiness that follows. It feels like the only way for it to be filled is to bring that missing person back in to your life again, but there is a reason they’re not there anymore – because it didn’t work.
A few years ago, I was at a very emotionally high point in life – I felt on top of the world about everything and every opportunity, and not one person could tell me that I wasn’t capable of doing whatever my heart desired, I wouldn’t have listened to them anyway.
Looking back, maybe I should have listened. What would happen if I paid attention to the glaring signs so obviously put in front of me that emphatically warned me to leave certain situations and people behind to avoid any heavier sadness that could (and vehemently did) come my way?
When you’re so high, you don’t really want to take a minute to think about the possibility of any lows. Leaving an environment comes with a merciless dosage of sobriety – it is raw, and it is uncomfortable.
I’m passionate about the people around me. In every way that I can, I try to show the people that I care for how much I value their place in my life. They do so much that builds me into a better person without even realizing. I’m evermore grateful to those who have rooted themselves so deeply into who I am – I bloom more every day into the better person I’d like to be because of them.
During that high point a few years ago, I learned that not all good things can last. My substantial happiness wasn’t as unmoving as I thought it was, and there was a point where I had to come to terms that I was looking at life – and certain people – through rose tinted glasses.
Let me tell you this: when a person makes you feel callous about things beyond your control over minimal situations, disregards your personal standings both in health and emotions, and ultimately disrespects your place as a friend, and more importantly, as a human being – it is time to move on.
We are all human beings going through different motions every single day. As much as we may try, we may not all be on the same playing field of understanding, but its the empathy put out towards trying to understand for someone what they’re going through that needs to be kept at the forefront. It’s hard to come to terms with the reality of doing that for someone, and they refuse to see outside of themselves and will only listen to you if it’s what they want to hear.
The moment where I realized life was not as peachy as I thought it was, all at once, every mistake I’d made during the point where I felt my life was lived so idealistically fell at my feet. Those moments piled up to a point where I felt like I was drowning in them, but I’ve finally reached a point where I’ve realized that I am not my mistakes.
I am not the immature decisions that I’ve made. I am no longer the pain that I endured from them. I’m moving forward from that, and there isn’t any room for the remnants of my sadness to butt in.
When you’re moving towards the brightness of your future, there is no reason to let the shadows of your past think they have a chance to check in on you.
I am done with the part of my life where I linger on my past mistakes. I’ve been in a spot where I allowed myself a routine of sadness, but the shine of my personal betterment is too bright to try to ignore.
Cheers, I just had my last cup of sorrow.