Timelines

I play out situations over and over again in my brain.  Situations from two minutes ago.  Situations from two years ago. Longer even.

In these plays, I rewrite a line or two and it changes everything.  A different word. A different action.  A different intention.  And then a new timeline is built.

In some timelines, I walk away before we even begin.  In other timelines, a baby is born, a wedding is planned, a bad breakup is less bad, and a sour relationship never went sour at all.

Unfortunately life doesn't come with a rewind button.  And, if it did, there infinite numbers of possibilities and outcomes that are unpredictable.  Plus, even if multiple timelines exist in me, there's no breaking out of this one. Parallel universes are just science fiction mumbo jumbo. Right?

In rare moments, something happens to me and I find myself replaying without changing my words.  It's the same scenario over and over again.  In those instances, I realize I don't need an alternate ending; what transpired is all that need occur.  Whatever could have been different is no longer, or never was, in my control.

My hope for my life, and for the lives of those I love and cherish, is that these multifaceted endings die out.  I want to be secure in my decisions, unwaivering, unwilling to second guess my motivations or emotional state. My wish is that all these parallel timelines fade away into the layers of ourselves where healing has already begun.

Let us not rewind. Let us simply play out.

Just let it go

Just let it go.

Ever heard that?  Ever notice how hard that can be?  I think it actually may be hardest part of healing.  

We all have to do it.  It's good for us to stop clutching these imperfect expectations of what we wanted our lives to be.  It makes us more productive with our days because the weight of all those unrealized expectations no longer drag us down.  We probably sleep better at night having accepted that our lives have been altered from "the plan" and it's ok.  And you know, that final act of letting go can sometimes soothe our hearts when they have been battered or bruised or worse --- broken.  

Sometimes it's a simple thing like letting go of an idea that we'll always love our job or that we should always argue when we're right. Other times I think it's hard to workout just exactly what it is that's holding us back at all.  

We have these things, these expectations deeply rooted in our families and values.  When we let go, have we rejected those who love us most?  Can they handle our decisions to make peace with ourselves?  Because maybe, just maybe, we could let go of these things if everyone else could let them go too.  

Then I think we wonder - when is letting go really giving up?  Isn't it important to follow our hearts, our dreams, our passions?  It's always occurred to me that the line between the two is thin and very feint.  So what's the difference?

For me, the difference is emotional.  When we let go of heartache, confusion, stress, and the shame of unrealized dreams, it's like calling a time out. It becomes a moment to look at our options and redirect our strategy.  It gives us a chance to take a breather and get our heads back in the game.

By contrast, giving up simply means it's over.  It's a defiance towards growing or learning.  It's an opposition to being flexible about what our dreams were and what they could be now.  It's resigning ourselves to this idea that happiness isn't an option any longer.  Frankly, it sucks.

We've all found ourselves stuck somewhere in the middle, I think.  We give up because we are afraid to let go.  We define ourselves by what we wanted to be and not by what we are.

We shouldn't do that.  We should be open to possibilities and answers we never conceived of before.  

Let go.  Let go of the things that kept you down. Let go of the things that didn't work out.   Make room in your life for the things you don't want to give up on. Your bruised or battered or broken heart will thank you.