It was time that I chose me, for me.
I was growing tired of the constant cycles of love I found myself in. I was growing tired of feeling less than, feeling insecure in who I was and what I had to offer. But, most importantly, I was growing tired of questioning whether or not what I was experiencing was real.
The mind battles became too much for me. It became too much to decipher every message, every tone used in conversation, and every display of affection. I’m a lover of words and memories. Whether good or bad, I hold on to them. Mainly, for the sake of reliving. Whenever I’m “in my feelings”, or don’t “feel loved”. To be honest, reliving became my crutch, my reason for staying longer than I should have. Especially when I wasn’t appreciated.
I’m aware that love is complicated at times, but, I do believe that it can also be black and white. It’s the grey areas that mess it all up, pure confusion. The attraction and the emotions were always black and white but the love? That was gray and it was conditional. No matter how much energy I gave ‘this’, how much time I spent nurturing ‘this’, ‘this love’ was conditional and changed daily. One day it was solid, it was strong, it had a fire to it. Others, it was cold and dark.
Because I cared, I loved. Because I loved, I stayed.
I stayed because the love I had for ‘this’ was greater than the love I had for myself. Problem number one, though I didn’t see it as a problem. I’ve always been one to fight for what I care about and to not give up. So in all areas of my life, I operated as such. Until, I made up my mind that I had enough.
It took time. Truth is, it takes time.
I had to learn that time will heal all wounds, but only when you WANT to be healed.
Like, not a couple of days but YEARS. It took many cries and disappointments to finally be tired. I was ready for a change and to experience the fullness of life. I wanted to heal, I was ready to heal. For me, I was ready.
I had to learn self-love.
I had to learn that self-love is just that, the love you have for your SELF. It’s not dependent on the opinions of others nor can it be defined by them. It’s how you view you, how you appreciate you and how you respect you.
I had to stop reliving.
The wondering of what could be and what should be were draining me because if it could and should, it would. I had to stop reliving because with reliving came defending. I was defending actions and behaviors that deep inside, I knew weren’t right but because I didn’t want to give up, I pacified them.
Note: Sometimes, it’s healthy to relive and reflect, as long as you continue to move forward. I wasn’t moving forward, I was staying in the moment of reliving. I had to stop that.
I had to choose me.
Truth is, if I didn’t choose myself then, I would have never done so. I would have continued to accept situations and people that I knew were not good for me. And I would have done so because, well, it was my norm.
Warsan Shire once wrote, “You can’t make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that.” I was eagerly searching for security and shelter in people. I wanted to feel accepted, appreciated and loved. I had to learn that in order to receive that from others, I had to receive it from myself.
I had no choice but to choose me. It was the greatest decision ever made.
I’ll never regret it. I can’t regret it because, regretting choosing me = rejecting the love I’ve fought to have. For me.
*The Best Decision: ME was inspired by a conversation I had with one of my girlfriends. Thank God for the girlfriends that keep you in check, hand you a tissue (or many) and FORCE you to get it together.