...for me yesterday. Allowing the expression of all that anger I felt gave me some clarity. It was strange. I didn't do the usual continuing to obsess about what happened. I didn't weave this big story about how unlovable I am because I got stood up. I just let the anger wash through my body. I observed it. I honored it. And it passed through. And it left behind this enormous amount of energy. It was as if I took back power from these past situations.
And I had another realization yesterday. I've been waiting my whole life. As a jw, I was waiting for the end of the world and the paradise to follow. Waiting for god to heal my ails. I've spent parts of my life waiting to be loved. Waiting to get into relationships. Waiting to get out. Waiting for the meds to kick in. Waiting to get off the meds. Waiting for the day to begin. Waiting for the day to end. But most of all, waiting for my life to begin.
I realize that I don't really want to kill myself. I don't really want to die. Death doesn't scare me. Life does. I'm afraid to live. I'm still learning what that even means--to live a life. All I've figured out so far is to breathe, in and out. And keep breathing, in and out. And to take life one breath, one moment, one day at a time. I'm learning to be present with what is now. Because really, where else is there to be?