Deconstructing the problem

It’s been nearly a year now.  So you would think I’d be far from the problem now.  You would think I would have gotten somewhere.  Instead it feels like I was nearly over it right away and then woke up a year later to find I was only really having issues now.

“Begin at the beginning,” the King said gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”

Surely if the characters in Alice in Wonderland can get it right, so can I….instead I feel like I’m going in the opposite direction.

Today, on the long plod up Table Mountain I had time to think.  It started with me wondering why I was plodding instead of doing my usual pushing to get a decent pace.  Somewhere along the line I had lost all ego.  But it wasn’t just ego, it was self-esteem.  My mind reeled over all the things I had let go of in the last year.  All the areas in my life where I used to push myself I now told myself I was taking it easy to get more balance.  And maybe at some stage I had found balance.  But I had also lost that fire.  I no longer cared about any results for any aspect of my life.  Things have gotten out of hand.

And I don’t know why one meant sacrificing the other but it wasn’t that linear.  One did not equal the result of the other.  I had lost that fire because I had lost faith in my ability to make decisions.  From what to do about getting a new car/job/shoes to what the hell to do when someone asks me on a date.  And it wasn’t that I wasn’t making decisions.  Oh, the ol’ brain cells are firing with as many clever schemes and ideas as they always have.  It was the fire to pursue them that had quelled.

And now that I’ve finally taken a step back and looked at it, I’m ashamed.  I didn’t realise I was doing it.  I had come up with all sorts of reasons why it was okay.  I was in the research phase or I was still saving up money or I simply never needed to be in a relationship ever again.  Why would I?  I can’t begin to understand what it was that got me in to them in the first place.  Once upon a time it wasn’t a choice.  It was a feeling.  It was heady and wild and free.  Now it was tightly bound by the need to decide.  I cringe to think of the number of times this year I’ve left a guy standing on the curb after a fun night out, only to end it with a chaste hug and a “thanks for a wonderful evening” before trotting away and trying hard to make it look like I’m not fleeing from the scene.

And then I laugh at myself again and roll my eyes at my first world problems and I carry on living my life and enjoying the moments.  This year has been full.  Packed to the brim with first times, new adventures, genuine smiles and laughter, soaking up the now.  In many ways I am happier than I have ever been.  Things that used to upset me or stress me out are gone.  I believe I’m a better, more loving person than I was 3 years ago.

And the only reason I am questioning my choice of a single life is because I am questioning my motives.  It was fine when I believed I was living simply.  I didn’t feel the need to share my life with someone.  There was utterly no desire to.  But now it feels like I’m actively running away instead of inactively not pursuing.  I thought I was not moving on because I hadn’t been swept away.  I hadn’t had that overwhelming feeling, that connection that drove me to want to spend time with someone.  But now I wonder if I’m not blocking the way with every excuse I can find.

I need that fire back.  I am not this indecisive sheep.  I am not the person who lies low.


By illonapelser