Thursday, November 19, 2020

Wonderwall

During today's workout, which I stumbled into accidentally going harder than expected (psyched myself out!), our trainer said something that I'm sure has been said before, but it struck me this time. Maybe as a result of being out of breath after windmilling my way through part one of my workout, I was weak and susceptible to suggestion. I was still distracted sorting through the quote, which she, no doubt, just tossed out there to match with the lyrics of the song we were working to. 

"There are only three people who are responsible for your happiness. That's me, myself, and I." ~ Leanne Pedante

I am positive this is not something she carefully crafted that morning in her bathroom, listening to De La Soul's Me, Myself and I. She just tossed it out there because all of the trainers there try to connect what you're doing to the song. 

I put the dissection of that quote on the back burner as I continued to work out for another 30 minutes. I have a habit of doing two things at once, just to keep my brain from distracting. I distinctly remember a very long time ago, I was reading something that a friend's sister gave me to look at, and as I was reading my friend started laughing at me, that side conversation stopping somewhere outside of my attention. I was mindlessly spinning a pillow on my off hand while I was completely focused on reading, not even realizing I was doing it. Ever since then, he'd play a game of handing me something while I was focused on something else, and I'd swallow that action into my gravity. 

To the dissection of Me, Myself, and I, you would think that they are three descriptions of the same thing, but my crazy synesthesia-fed brain separated the three, knowing that those concepts were different textures, different shapes and colors. They're three descriptions of myself from different places, and I needed to know that it doesn't come down to a selfish thought that my opinions alone matter. Understanding the spectrum of who I am to people (me), what I've been able to do alone (myself), and how much I value myself (I), I have to check that off and know that I've earned whatever scraps of happiness I've been able to find, especially this year

This crazy ass year. I thought that 2016 was the depth of suck. 2017 barely recovered. 2018 and 2019 were comeback years. And here we are. But hold on. 

The key to my happiness isn't as complicated as the law offices of "Me, Myself, and I." Fun exercise, sure, and funny how my brain tried to make sense of the cyclical reference. The thought doesn't address the search for happiness, though, the hope to find completion. I mean, it's a great song, but the real shit is that attempt to fill in something that's missing: 

If I only had _______ I'd feel complete. 

I'd be happy if not for ________. 

I would be ecstatic if I had a _________ right in front of me. 

That last one was just a placeholder for a slice of cheesecake. Craving right now, and I don't know why. 

These are great arguments to have with myself, even if they're never articulated, but they exist without actual solutions. So many times I've gotten the thing, but still wasn't happy or satisfied. There was always the euphoria of "getting" but never the sense of "having." Sometimes the plateau of getting there came with a lot of restrictions and conditions, things that gave you the taste of the thing you wanted, but never actually the real thing. It became the itch you couldn't scratch, the salt shake away from the flavor you were looking for (or is it pepper? Cinnamon?), that thing you bought on Wish but didn't quite measure up when it arrived in the mail. Okay, I guess the $5 price tag should have been a warning. 

Playing with these thoughts on the back burner of my mind for the better part of a whole day, I finally had my epiphany late at night.  


I don't know if you've ever been on a long hike, but when you're on a trail and you look ahead to a place you'd like to reach for want of the view, you walk, you overcome obstacles, and eventually you get there, only to see the next peak. The view is great, but that next peak looks like it has potential. So you walk and navigate more. You get to the next peak; You see the one after that. It doesn't matter if you get to the highest peak in the world, I guarantee that if you've put any importance and appreciation on the journey you'll see the next place you want to go. 

(This is obviously going to be in the book I'm writing, I'm just realizing.)

All of these years that I caught myself being attracted to whatever the answer to that riddle was, I didn't pick up on the major clue buried in the times when I had to be resourceful in the wake of rejection, or defeat, or a failure. I was always swimming in emotion - even if only for a moment - promising myself that I would allow myself to feel it and not bury anything to deal with later. I felt what I needed to, and then I worked through it, and essentially I came home every time. 

The truth at the bottom of this is that the best, most supportive and fulfilling relationship I have always had, has been with myself. I have figured out a hundred ways of picking myself up, rewarding myself, encouraging my own creative expression, and allowing space to take risks. I'm not only responsible for my own happiness, I'm also responsible for my own sadness; It's not a squared window I get to see things through, it's an ownership of the whole thing. I am, as Emma Watson put it, happily self-partnered, because I have picked myself up and mended more wounds than anyone else. I have, especially in the long history of this journal - started in the 80s and returning during this pause in the world - loved myself harder in a spirit of forgiveness than I've often felt that I've deserved. It is, after all, the journey, the path, the sights along the way that I alone am fully witness to, so I'm giving myself credit. 


I began this pandemic/quarantine/apocalypse with the challenge to myself that I would prepare like a traveler on a long solo journey. Not only would it need a strict daily routine, it would also require some self-reflection and honesty, and maybe a little indulgence. I expect someday I'll go back to writing about the new adventures of me, but for now the getting reacquainted part is cathartic. Us Libras love finding chaos and bringing order and balance to it, or just stepping back and appreciating it from a distance, with a cup of coffee and...

I'm going to celebrate the moment with some cheesecake. See you on the next random thought. 

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