The Choice May Have Been Mistaken--

I Chose and My World Was Shaken; So What?!

The Choice May Have Been Mistaken,

The Choosing Was Not!

~Sondheim

Ok.  So, some decisions have been made.  Let's hope they work out better than my New Year's Resolutions, of which I have only been faithful to one.  I have given up candybars as completely as I have given up meat.  I need to work on the resolutions that require me to be PROACTIVE rather than REACTIVE.  If my new year's resolution had been to MAKE cadybars everyday, I doubt that would have been as successful.  But AVOIDING the consumption of candy bars?  No a big deal, really. Tempted a few times, but mostly no biggie.

Ok.  So.  The decisions.

Last night I had to go through quite a catharsis.  It was forced upon me really, as some of the most powerful moments of growth and learning often are; I went through it kicking and screaming, biting and scratching, but I went THROUGH it.  I didn't retreat from it, I didn't bury it, I didn't shrug it off.  The only way out is THROUGH, as they say.

And some bargains were struck.  And some plans were devised.  And some promises were made.

I promised, for instance, to never kill myself.  This seems silly, doesn't it?  And sorta sad that I'd have to make such a promise.  But it was a tough one to be asked, and believe it or not, even tougher to agree to.  I don't break promises to my husband, so it wasn't something I could just nod and smile and say 'yes' to.  I had to weigh it carefully.

With all the mounting debt, with all the broken dreams, with all the potential flaking away as the years speed by, I'll admit that in dark moments the idea that I have the power, if I really want, to make it all stop, to disappear utterly, to escape-- this notion has actually comforted me and calmed me.  Sort of like a sure-fire escape rout, an emergency 'stop' button, a definite 'I Quit'.

And to surrender that comfort, to block up that escape route, to pass forever on the opportunity of getting out of this game when the going gets too rough?  Whoosh.  It was more difficult than it should have been for sane people, I'm sure.  It took some thinking, I'll tell ya.

But it has been promised. And so it is done.

So don't fret if I'm in the tub too long folks, I probably just fell asleep.

The next thing I had to commit to was re-discovering who I am, what I'm passionate about, and what I will be.  I've lost so much of what used to make me incomparable, and I want it back.  I am timid where I used to be bold.  I am self-conscious where I used to be brazenly confident.  I second guess, I worry, I doubt, and I don't believe in myself.

I want that to be done with.  I want to throw caution to the wind and throw righteous middle fingers to all the nay-sayers.  I want to be bold and brassy and beautiful.  I want to be thoughtlessly perfect; I want to make mistakes and shrug and laugh and keep moving forward.

So I am starting a quest to re-claim the fearless, flamboyant person I must still be deep inside.  Enough cringing and crouching in public arenas.  I am who I am and I shouldn't have to apologize for it, main-stream it, tame it, or sensor it.

I allowed my grace, my grit, my confidence and my charisma to be stripped, bit by bit, from me by people Like Carol and Bob.  By people who don't possess even a fraction of my talent, my vision, or my potential.  I allowed them to get the best of me, to crush my spirit, to fatally wound my passion.  I honestly wasn't sure I'd ever recover, so changed was I by their pessimism, their constant put-downs, their unnecessary undermining, their personal grudges, their dousing of my flame, their petty jealousy, their idiocy.

I'm crippled and scarred and wary.  I may never recover my whole-hearted passion, and that terrifies me, because Who is Beth Reardon without her passion?  She's this waste-of-space shell of a person that you've been seeing for so long now. 

So I'm on a quest to re-discover it, to find it, to nurture it back to health, to build it up and give it wings again.  And like a hero in a tale, I have heard the call to action, but I have no idea how to begin, where my journey will take me, or what lies at the end of the path.  I know only that this is Life-and-Death.  EVERYTHING I am hinges on the success of this mission.  I know there will be perils on the path, I know there will be challenges left and right, obstacles and doubts and I know I will want to turn back, give up, damn the consequences.

So let's see if I have a hero in me, shall we?  Let's see if I can stick to it and muddle through and fight the dragons and escape the witches and outwit the genies and take-on whatever this quest throws at me, shall we?

And another promise\mission:  We are officially looking at India as a real possibility.  This week I will make inquiries into getting a real job halfway across the world!  

And I am making a serious, organized, ruthless attack on applying for jobs all over the area.

And I have decided to continue writing CF, and maybe, when I wrap it all up, do what I need to do to see about getting it published.  Middle fingers to all the naysayers.  Go write your own book, if you think mine is shit.  I am proud of it.  I love it.  And I don't think it is possible that I'm the only one out there that would enjoy reading it.  (Ok, I don't think it's just Me & Danielle, lol.)

So she's the only one of my immediate friends who has taken the time, that obviously makes her the fucking best, but it doesn't mean that she and I are the only ones who would dig it.  And oneday in the not-too-distant future, I believe it will find a real and engaged audience.

The catharsis was brutal.  It went deep and it was painful.  But I am grateful for it.  I obviously had to go to the edge, I had to fucking PURGE alot of toxins.  Cleanse. 

And now, with a cleaner slate, I begin to rebuild.  Revitalize.  Reclaim what was mine.

I feel a bit like I should have a sword, or something... at least a cape.