Falling

Growth and learning aren’t linear. There are some basics we have to get down before we move on to the more complex lessons, challenges. This means from time to time it can look like chaos, jumping around from idea to idea, pulling in all of the related concepts. Later, further into your lessons, you’re going to circle back to the basics, and then as it gets even more complex you’ll find yourself back at the ideas that once seemed impossible to grasp but now feel rudimentary.

Up until now my learning experience with the concept of falling has covered: into depression, into love, out of love, on my ass, down the steps, apart. That’s not a complete list, by any means but that certainly hits the major points. I’m circling back though, exploring that one again, and this time we’re getting an understanding of falling into place.

Now, I can’t tell you how many times when I was cycling through my falling lessons that I desperately wished this was the point I was at because it was far too many to count. None more frequent than when it came to the “out of love” portion. Why can’t things just work out? Why can’t I be easier to deal with? Why can’t I just want what I should want? Why does it always have to feel like this? When will I finally know how to be? From where I am currently, I can see I wasn’t ready to tackle this one until I took my time and covered all of those basics.

Things had been working out just as they needed the whole time. I can’t be easier to deal with because I am so perfectly me and when I promised to start accepting only what was for me into my life, I threw the towel in on being easy. There is nothing I should want but the things that I do. The “should wants” are only the will of others in disguise. It has to feel like this because we need to feel through everything. It’s worth it, I swear. And most importantly, I will know how to be when I stop trying to be anything other than myself.

You have to be able to confidently answer your own questions without looking to the outside for validation before you’re ready to move on to the next lesson. I catch myself ready to text my best friend and ask her to reassure me that it’s okay to let people be there for me and that if I want to ask someone that I am dating to come to a family dinner with me because I’m worried it will be hard, I can do that. I gently remind myself that it’s wonderful that I want to reach out for encouragement but it sounds like I know exactly what I need to hear and it would be really brave of me to be the one to encourage myself. Okay, I’ll try.

I haven’t asked yet, but I will. I won’t outsource the discomfort of the conversation onto anyone but him. Be transparent. I’m afraid to ask this of you but I’m showing up anyways. Please know I don’t expect anything of you but I’m also not going to deflect this one and tell you “you can come if you want to”. I’m going to own it. “I want you to come but I know it’s a lot to ask so don’t feel pressured because more than anything, right now, I just want to make it through this conversation.” Be vulnerable. It’s six days away and a two-hour drive. I feel like this needs a warning. I don’t want to wish myself further ahead than I am but I’m going to need this self-talk to work a little bit faster – you know, strictly for the sake of our guest.

The beautiful thing for me about dreading this conversation is knowing that I’m falling into myself enough and things are falling into place enough that I will find the courage to spit it out. Even better, I’m surprising myself every day with how quickly I come around. Nowadays my dread is laced with excitement and I can’t help but be thankful for where I am and where I’m headed.

Much love, until next time.