He said I was desperate.
In so many words, worse than just coming out and saying it, one of my best friends called me desperate. It hurt, I was shocked and angry about it. I wanted to slap him in the face and cry, not because he hurt me but because of the truth of it. I sat there holding my hands asking myself when, ever, has he lied to me? He's one of my best friends, never.
And there in lies the beautiful pain of it all. The whole love hate relationship that I have going on with myself, my soul, my body.
I've never let go of my control over a situation. The truth is that's what has to happen here. I have to let it go. I have to release the reigns and run this into the ground and fall on my face and watch the flames rise around me and step from them like a phoenix.
Maybe that's what this was, my emotional flames engulfing me, and the fact that I held my hands and didn't slap him was me tied to that pole burning and feeling the glorious fire eat me alive and make me this new human.
This new woman who will be honest with what she is, to herself, if not anyone else.
I've used the things that have happened to me as a crutch for too long and I've allowed things to happen because I was to tired to fight them. I've used my circumstances as an excuse to not be a normal full human, I've not only let others hold me back, more importantly I've held myself back. I'm a follower that way.
Maybe the tears in my eyes are like the waterfall of a cleansing flood, they'll wash over me and take the ashes of the fire from this weekend away.
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