When life goes wooosh... Just let me grow!

So, recently there has been another whoosh in my life. I alluded to this other whoosh in my last post, and this whoosh is what I said I thought was responsible for the nausea I was feeling on my first day at my new job. But, no. First day nausea, as we’ve established, was an epiphany…it was totally unrelated to this other thing (which I am gonna get to) which also made me feel like I wanted to puke.

Here goes…

I was supposed to go to this get-together with a bunch of people recently. I couldn't go. When I say I couldn't go, it wasn't because something came up. I couldn't bring myself to go. The whoosh of that, the deciding if I could or couldn’t go, would or wouldn’t go, the reasons why I wasn’t sure if I was capable of going (or if I even wanted to test my reserves at all), felt more like a clobber. This other thing had gotten to my gut, and still totally hasn’t left, like there was a target on my belly for a boulder to drop.

(BTW, don’t get sick of the word “whoosh” yet, even if I am over using it. If I get to it, I’ve got some more whoosh to post about and I’ll be referencing and calling these things some whoosh, too.)

Anyway, there was someone who was going to be at this get-together who I have some bad history with. No part of me wanted to see this person. I've forgiven this person. But, as they say, forgiveness is not for the forgived; it's for the forgiver. So this forgiver, me, well, no matter how much forgiveness is in my heart, as my forgiveness towards this person comes from a place of understanding, there isn't any room in my life for this person at this time.

To be honest, there may never be room for this person in the future, either. I am okay with that. The energy that comes with sustaining a relationship with this person is not energy that I want, nor can handle, in my life.

I'd go into what the bad history is, and who this person is, but does it really matter? Toxic is toxic.

When the thought of someone, or something, or some circumstance having to do with that someone or something, causes more than what can be described as a negative physical or mental reaction, but causes a ripple that pushes the air out of you so intensely that it feels like you are being sucked under by a crashing wave and might drown, why would you willingly invite more of that energy into your life?

Look, I may have it wrong here, but I've gotten to a place where I worked through and/or accepted what has happened to me (with this person and with many other things in my life). And, I wouldn't change any aspect of what has transpired with me and this person, because I am who I am because of everything that has happened to me (which includes my experience with this person). I wouldn't change any of me that I am Now! I live without regret.

But, I don't need this person in my life and I would tell anyone, without hesitation, who has a questionable person, or an unacceptable circumstance, in their life to extricate that presence.

If that still doesn't make sense, let me put it this way. Let's say you pour acid onto a living plant. (Yes, we’re back to plants. Truth is, I’m a plant junkie and have an insane succulent garden as evidence, so the living thing, the plant reference, works for me.) Let’s say that even though you pour acid onto this plant, the plant lives. It even grows a thicker branch where that plant was scarred by the acid.

Does that mean you should keep pouring acid onto the rest of the plant to add new scars, to see how tough the plant can get? Should you see how much acid you can pour onto the plant before it dies? If the plant does not die should you see if you can get the plant used to dealing with smaller then larger doses of acid before it’s too much?

NO. The plant can choose water instead of acid to feed from.

No acid for me, thanks.

So, I didn’t go to the get-together. I had someone close to me tell everyone that I was just getting over a bug and that I needed to rest up before starting my new job. It wasn’t a total lie. I had had the meanest stomach bug a week prior, and had had with that bug the worse chills of my life. I did still feel like crap and was a bit stomach jacked by the bug and the new first day on the horizon.

Then, what did the person, who I didn’t want to see, do? They called me on my cell phone during what was to be my first day at work and said, “Hey, so you weren’t at the get-together and I thought I’d call you to congratulate you on your new job…bla, bla, bla.”

(Um, so wanted to kill the person who gave this person my cell phone number. Turns out, that everyone’s current contact info was passed out at the get-together.)

When I heard their voice, though, and realized it was them, my gut went sour. No part of me had wanted to hear from this person (Duh!). Just as much, more, of me, didn't want to hear from them at work, or on my cell, or in my day, or in my life…in any way.

F! Who the hell calls someone in the middle of what would be their first day at a new job to say, "Hey, you weren't at the get-together, so..."?

Really? Brain cells of a gnat! And, who calls someone who A: they have bad history with, and B: who hasn't returned their calls in almost 10 years? Brain cells of a dead gnat!

The sound of this person’s voice gnawed through me and turned my insides out worse than the stomach bug had done, just a week prior, which had me puking my guts out more than 15 times. At the same time, I couldn’t feel. (Natural protection mode, I suppose.) I was pretty non-responsive, mostly dumb and silenced struck by hearing their voice, which at first I didn’t even recognize. Within less than a minute, they got the hint. I wasn’t happy. I didn’t want to talk to them. They concluded the call.

After they hung up, I went out and walked along the tree path I always walk along at work during breaks, the one I’ve mentioned before with the gorgeous shadows from the tree leaves which speckles the sidewalk gray and white. I wanted to try to figure out how I was feeling. I didn't know if I needed to cry or scream, or neither. I was so blown away by having their voice in my day that I couldn't react at first. I felt the kind of numb where you know you are numb, but the numb is so heavy that the weight of its nothing is worse than a punch, worse than a boulder to the belly.

The only thing I could think to do was to register the number they called me from in my cell so that I'd never accidentally pick up again. But that was not good enough. Suddenly, I thought: I can’t live this way. I can’t try to avoid them and hope they know I don’t want to hear from them. I can’t control life. I can’t control people. I can’t control. Period. But I can try to take as much of my power back as is possible.

So I called this person back.

I said, "I need to be fair to you and I need to let you know where I am coming from. I forgave you. I told you that, years ago. However, while I have forgiven you, it does not work for me to have a relationship with you at this time. That would create too much imbalance in my life. I cannot say if this will always be the case, but this is how it is now. I hope that you do not live your life with any guilt for what has happened, for what you did to me, because I do not blame you. And I hope that you can believe that I truly have forgiven you. But, again, because I need to take care of myself I need you to know that I am not interested in having a relationship of any kind with you. This means I do not want to hear from you again."

This person responded in a tone that was kind but sharp (understanding had set it), and said, "Okay. I guess I will just wait to hear from you when you are ready." "Yes," I said.

"Okay, then. It's been real," they said and then hung up.

When I heard the deadening of the phone line, a smile that was not a smile pursed my lips. I wasn’t happy. I still didn’t know how to feel. But, I was satisfied. I’d taken the direct route. Instead of trying to get someone to figure out how I was feeling (by avoiding calls, by never being physically present anywhere they were meant to show up) I told them directly that I didn’t want them in my life.

That felt right. That felt powerful. That felt stronger than hoping they’d get the hint.

Again, it doesn’t matter what the details are of all the things that transpired with this person. What matters is the extent of the grief that was brought to me. What matters is how I was affected. The course of my life has been so altered by the culmination of events that transpired because of this person that the weight of hearing this person’s voice in my day bought (even if only for a second) the thought that, F! This is hard. I’m not dig’n being human today. Break, please?

It wasn’t a suicidal thought. But it was definitely a split-second, intense desire to return to my original form, to lose this damn human body and mind that hasn’t yet become conscious enough or strong enough to not be affected by certain past experiences that have gutted me.

I’ve done an amazing job at being who I am, at being this person who has flourished in spite of things that have happened to me that can kill a person’s spirit. But part of why I’ve grown so far forward is because I know what grows me and what can kill me. I avoid the things that suck life out of me. I know certain avoidance is smart, not unconscious. For some things, there is just simply no need to figure out how to build up more scar tissue.

Would you ask a woman who is being abused by a mate to stay, to take learn to take the punches better, to figure out how to get tougher to receive the blows? No. You’d tell her to leave. Effectively, that’s what I’ve done. I’ve walked away from a relationship that threw too many blows my way.

You see, we aren’t weeds. We’re strong, but we don’t have to force ourselves up through cement and limit ourselves to existing between cracks and between hardships. We are more like plants. We need the basics: We need love. We need sun. We need food and water. Thus, we don’t have to be forced to thrive in an environment that crushes our love, darkens our sun, spoils our food, or droughts our water.

This much I know.

Let me grow. Let the seeds of my lessons spread to the wind like morning glory and then let me come back to me so that I can find myself in each new spring. And if I find that bricks have been laid upon my chest, let me find another way to my flowering. Let me decide how to turn over each of my new leaves, as this is my life, this is what I have to give, not what someone else is allowed to take. Let me grow…