I was raised by a bitter man who wished I was a boy. He constantly demonized me for my nature and became angry when I started to mensurate. The only time I felt accepted by my father was when I participated in sports. So long as I obeyed my father and pretended to be what he wanted me to be, there would be an uneasy silence between us. It's only natural, having not yet learned my lesson, that in my adult life, I would attract romantic partners who resembled him.
But I think I am done with that. In fact, I feel I have no choice but to be done because my spirit has seen, heard, felt, tasted, and now knows the truth.
It's frustrating to realize how much time was wasted in a state of consciousness that limited me and blinded me from my potential for so long. But I'd rather not be like my father, full of regret and rage. And I'd rather not be like my ex-lover, empty of self acceptance and full of shame.
I've heard, and even blogged, about people acting like mirrors in my life. But the last guy who brought me coffee and flowers was a mirror that was too close, the closest a mirror as ever been to the, then, version of my soul. The amount of polarity I experienced with him made my head spin.
I could never justify my emotions with him. The moment I would get angry that he was playing the victim, I would realize I was angry for the very same reason; I was playing the victim. I would notice his response to pain was acting like a wounded animal and I hated his lack of power in those situations. Then I realized I was with him for that very reason; I had a lack of power within myself to acknowledge that this relationship wasn't working for me.
I think that's why I stayed with him as long as I did. I couldn't find a logical enough reason to leave because his shadow so strongly reflected mine. The shame he felt for all the choices he's made in his life reflected the shame I still felt for all the things I could not subconsciously forgive myself for. So I stayed. I stayed because how could I leave someone for shame when our shame was the same?
After journaling about it, I realized I stayed with him not only because I wanted to prove to him that a good partner does exist, but because I wanted to prove to myself that a good partner can exist. I wanted to experience a good partner. Because of that, I became exactly what I wanted to experience in a partner. But when both parties aren't doing the work, it doesn't work. And when one party is moving slower than the other, resentment is planted.
Resentment is watered with every, "I'm sorry". Resentment spreads with every piece of chocolate consumed. Resentment becomes the shade we refuse to leave because the sun tells us too many things about ourselves that we can't accept because we're angry. We're angry at each other, but really we're angry at ourselves.
After a year of trying to understand what I was missing, why the relationship wasn't working, why I could never seem to say the right the thing at the right time or why my personality was being misunderstood, my restless spirit told me to walk. And when I did I walked into the sun and I was burnt by the truth of my beliefs. And I had to, and still am, accepting that my burns are my responsibility no matter what he said and did to me. Because I could have just walked away. But ultimately I chose to stay.
When it became too much and my reserves were empty he brought me a coffee and left it in my fridge. He didn't ask me if I wanted the coffee. He just assumed nothing had changed between us. He assumed his behavior would have no affect on me because I trained him to think that's what he should believe. For three days I left the coffee in the fridge. I wasn't ready to toss it. I felt guilt for choosing myself. Dumping the coffee was placing my crown upon my head but my spine wasn't quite ready for that yet. The temptation to crawl back to the known, to the small version of myself that was overly forgiving and too understanding of cruel, nasty behavior was still lingering somewhere in the shadows of my mind. Every time I opened the fridge I grew more irritated by the fact that I could ever be persuaded to remain involved with someone who felt powerful when I felt small.
After four days I ripped the coffee out of the fridge. I remember staring at it wrapped in plastic on the kitchen counter. Its presence forced my eyes in its direction. And when I couldn't resist anymore I just stared at it. I couldn't tell if I was feeling everything all at once or nothing at all. All I could do was stare. All I could do was numb out while life moved around me, without me, in the kitchen. I stared silently and it was familiar. I had become accustomed to feeling nothing as a result of being a prisoner of feeling anything. Because when your attempt to be rational and caring is confused for insecurity, what do you say? When your needs are confused for a lack of information, what do you say?
"Why wouldn't he ask me if I wanted the damn coffee?" I thought to myself. "Why assume I wanted it? Now its going to waste." I thought as I slowly dumped the coffee into the sink.
I learned more about myself with him than I think I wanted or intended to. It was the rudest awakening. I am so angry at him for what he did, didn't do, and accused me of. And I am so angry at myself for not being capable of seeing it before it escalated too far.
Everything I have learned from the relationship, though, has brought me closer to my purpose. I am so close now that I no longer feel separation. In fact, I feel I am wearing it on my skin, moving through the house in it, bathing in it, and connecting to others in it.
S h i f t i n g.
When he gave me those flowers my skin crawled. I could finally see him without emotional attachment, without blinders of what I wanted to see. And he was heavy. He was dark. Being near him, I felt I couldn't breathe. Not one single part of me wanted to stay, so I didn't. But the guilt I felt almost made my legs freeze. But I choose to believe in something besides him. I choose to believe that what I was seeing was the truth because it wasn't coming from my head. I decided I could be lead by guilt. Or, I could be lead by my intuition.
I choose the latter.
And I continue to understand exactly what that means, and the challenges and responsibilities that come with choosing me.
I am still speechless to the feeling of standing in my power. There are so many emotions involved with choosing myself. If I've ever claimed in the past to be standing in my power, know that I was wrong. This feels so much more real. And I know its real because I can feel its going to take time and experience to truly understand it. It's not a high. That kind of power is delusion; it is rage, anger, and pride disguised as power.
Rage is not power.
P e a c e i s p o w e r.
And I am now knocking on the doors of peace. It only took walking through the same hell multiple times all while spirit dangled a fucking mirror in the form of so many people who resembled my father and ultimately the genes I carry. I did not realize it was me who had control the whole time. I wasn't taught to understand I have control. Because of that I had to learn the really, really hard way. I had to learn from coffee and flowers.
- Celina Joan
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