I always old a part of myself back.
The past week I’ve had a lot of interaction with people important to me. It forced me to look a little deeper. It’s sort of like being in the surf. Another wave breaks over you before you have a chance to completely catch your breath. You know you won’t drown, but you’re going to have to work to stay above water. It narrows your focus to what matters and what doesn’t.
Honesty demanded I keep a part of myself separate from everything. I know why. When everything falls apart that part of me is what I depend on to be strong, see me through, and pick me up again. Sounds good. It’s the part of me I trained to be perpetually detached, just in case.
Unfortunately, it also means I’m never all in, not at events and not with people or in relationships. No matter what I’m doing, a part of me is kept separate, saved for the anticipated crash. Pessimistic but holding to the pattern I’m accustomed to in my life.
It was also safe, so to speak. It was a habit learned in order to keep myself safe from whatever NM doled out. It meant there was always a part of me she could never touch.
What this also means is that as much as I want to live my life fully, I don’t. It’s impossible to live a full life if you’re always holding something back.
In my head, I know that being hurt is inevitable. Holding back doesn’t really save me from anything except from participating fully in my own life.
I’m hoping with the new awareness I will be more present, more conscious of choosing to be fully present. Perhaps this is part of the mourning process, letting go of another tool that worked for decades but isn’t needed anymore.