Part 2: Realizations

99.9% of my thoughts find their way into this blog in the evening. That being said, coming home from long days over the past month or so to a post that I’m not sure where to begin—partially because I’ve been unsure of how it will be interpreted and partially because I’ve feared that once I begin writing, all the cogs will start turning, only to find their alignments in truths that I may not be prepared to face—putting it off has become second nature.

But here we are—deep breaths—Part 2.

 
West Virginia has always been at the other end of my pointed blame when it came to why I handle relationships in the way that I have. Although those boys’ lives have gone on and they likely rarely (if at all) consider the impact that their actions had—it has found its way into my life—and in effect, that of my significant others’—for nearly a decade. In the aftermath of West Virginia I became skeptical of everyone’s motives—especially when it came to matters of the heart. So, as you can imagine—I’ve been quite the handful in relationships. Admitting is the first step though, right? Incessant, unwarranted worrying? Check. Jealousy? Check. The most analytical person ever? Check. You see, I’m never skeptical in the beginning—in fact, I’m usually pretty fearless and down for anything. It’s not until there’s the possibility that who I’ve been putting all my effort into wants to take it to the next step and become official, that I become crippled by fear. All of a sudden the idea of being let down or letting someone else down becomes inescapable. And honestly, how lame is that? You would think that it’d be the other way around and once I knew someone was all in, all my fears would be put to rest—but instead it wasn’t until I felt truly wanted that all the pessimism would find a way to slip through the cracks in an attempt to drown out everything else. I’m fully aware of how easy it is to raise your eyebrows and thank your lucky stars you don’t have to deal with that—and I understand. But, luckily for me, after West Virginia, save for one person, the people who I chose to let in—however guarded I still was—didn’t do that (at least not immediately). Instead they were genuine and helped me in their own ways before eventually giving up. And for that, as I’m in what feels like some sort of enlightening metamorphosis—I have a new appreciation for what I learned in those relationships.

Back in July I wrote about hindsight. What I didn’t really go into detail about is that I had my first bout of PTSD that was aggravated by being incredibly intoxicated. It happened again in September and then again on New Year’s. Third times the charm right? Sure, it could be blamed on alcohol and being “that drunk girl,” but I know myself well enough to not only know that it was entirely out of character, but that these were the defining moments that would lead me to truly start reflecting on everything I’ve clung to for so long—fears ingrained since West Virginia, as well as everything I’ve refused any possibility of being true.

The longer I’ve found myself fooling with fears, the more I’ve learned about myself and the closer I’ve gotten to letting go and making peace with my past. The experiences that my fears have led to in relationships have brought about the incessant notion that’s there’s more to the story—more than just three boys’ betrayal. It’s something beyond that, before that, and much bigger than that. And it’s that realization that has led me to believe that, considering I’ve always thought that everything happens for a reason, perhaps West Virginia was the universe’s way of planting fears and insecurities that would eventually make me so profoundly raw that it would allow me to consider possibilities that I’ve been negating all along.

The way I see it, the universe is set up in such a way that things are revealed to you exactly when you’re ready. And maybe, just maybe, that’s now. All along I’d been under the impression that it boiled down to West Virginia, but is it possible that they were just the beginning of a path that led to discovering my roots and giving me the courage to take responsibility into my own hands in an attempt to uncover what’s been subconsciously holding me back all along?

I can’t say for sure, but with that idea in mind, and a sinking, yet uplifting feeling that it could be just the answer I need, it’s up to me to set the date and start the conversation that must be heard.

Books & Moves & Life

Part 1: West Virginia