After 20 Years of Questioning Myself, It's Time To Let Go

Image credit: krasimiranevenova / 123RF Stock Photo
Image credit: krasimiranevenova / 123RF Stock Photo

"There is no such thing as a small hole in a water bed, I know this from personal experience. I once believed that I could inconvenience an ex-boyfriend by breaking into his apartment and poking a small hole in his water bed. Not knowing that the laws of physics were against me, I believed it would slowly leak and he would get a little wet while in bed. By the time he got home that afternoon, his bedroom was flooded. It was shortly after that he took out the restraining order on me.

Therein lies the complexity of life. No matter what I did after that, or how I behaved, he, and the judge, will always remember me as the crazy girl who flooded his bedroom. This proves the simple premise that our entire life is just a memory. The sad part is that they're not even our memories. They're someone else's memories. They're someone else's perceptions of us. What they have seen, what they have interpreted of our lives. We spend our lives conforming to the norms of society to make an impression, to build a persona, to be someone, and when we die all that goes with us.

What's left is what other people think we were trying to be or what they wanted us to be, not what we wanted to be. For better or for worse, no one will ever know what went on inside our minds. That's a deep reflection on our lives because that's all we have to ourselves, our minds."

What you just read is the beginning of the book I wrote, it's a story of how I wasted 18 months of my life doing drugs, attempting suicide 3 times and essentially self-destructing. It's the story of how I got to that point and how I changed and got to where I am now. It's never been published, excerpts have been read by a few friends and they said I should try to publish it, but they are friends, what do they know? It was more of a cathartic experience for me, but I always thought I would try to publish it when my Grandmother passed away, I didn't want her to know about it. The plan was to publish it under the pen name Nerak Willrod - my maiden name is Karen Rodwill. Get it? Nerak is Karen spelled backward are Willrod is switching Rodwill? I am so clever, eh? I had also considered starting a blog entitled "One Chapter at a Time" where I would post one chapter every 3 days. Why? Who knows, maybe I thought my story would help someone, maybe I thought my family would read it and get me. Regardless, it sits in the document folder of my laptop unfinished.

Why I am telling you this? Because it has come to my attention that what I said is true. There are some people who will only see you as you were in that snapshot, they will not see who you are. They can't, and I wish I knew why. As I am writing this, I am starting to shake with anxiety. Why? Because now you know that I was a very bad girl, because I am going to be judged again, because I know some of my family is reading this and I am going to get a lot of negative feedback. I can handle it, but I don't want to. You see, I am the person I am today because of the person I was then. I truly believe that we are all a sum total of our experiences. Our lives are determined by fate and free will, fate will bring us where we are supposed to be, our free will sends us where we want to go. Sometimes we want to go back, we can't. Often I want to go back, but if I did, who would I be today? I like who I am today. I still screw up, I still make mistakes, I still have debts to pay, but I forgive myself and I try harder - most of the time.

During my most recent confrontation, I decided it was time to let go of some people for good. It's just not healthy for me to be in their cross hairs, nothing I ever do will be good enough. I can't be me and be in their lives, I don't live up to their expectations, I don't follow the rules of how often I should call people - frankly, I never saw that rule but apparently, there is one - and I don't care about anyone but myself. It's too bad, because if they knew me at all they would understand me. But they don't try.

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