Letting go is harder than simply opening a door and watching the breeze blow past you.
Some days, when I think I have finally let go, attachment slips in a grin and I can feel my body tremble with the anticipation of whichever emotion is choosing to hold me in that moment of confrontation with self. For if it becomes a confrontation outside of self, attachment has already won and I might as well finish my appearance as an ass to the tale this incident will become.
Or so my logic forsoothes me.
I use to be great at never showing emotion and in turn appeared as a robot to those who I did try and build relationships with. Logic always overshadowed emotion, emotion was too much my mother, and I was never going to be her.
Until it was I learned what it meant to be Her. When I finally recognized the gifts of life She granted me that are so necessary in the fucked up world I have been imparted.
Yet that is a whole other story about letting go ... in the one I tell now, people are still alive and I have no youthful excuse for my life's mistakes. Still, I keep making them.
I am getting better at embracing my emotions without letting them have control over the situation. I feel partial to mention that my previous state of being was to tell my emotions to "FUCK OFF!"
Thus ensuring nothing but logical action in any situation. I do not truly know which is worse, allowing emotion or logic complete control? I certainly do know what I grew up believing was worse, hence my propensity toward the latter.
I have learned it takes a great deal of strength to embrace an emotion that flares, without letting it take control, while in the process of letting go. Especially when the letting go is believed complete and then something small awakens you that it is not. It is in that moment a trigger, like a shot of good tequilla to an alcoholic, snaps it's fingers and emotion rears at the gate.
In that moment, emotion can make you feel like a cowboy, turn you into a clown, and have you hiding in a barrel if you let it convince you to ride.
Letting go is full of all these fears, mainly in regards to change or loss.
Change has always held great space in my life. Therefore it is not fear of change that drives my emotions in this process of letting go. Though at first, I selfishly though it was.
I can finally admit to myself that it was fear of loss that truly had me clinging to this attachment so dramatically. Looking desperately for acceptance from anyone who was looked up to within the circle of my life. Anyone who could guarantee to me that my space here in the Universe we had created was a cemented throne I could always sit upon. A place I had come to believe and rely in. A place in which I had taken to storing my fear, my strength, my honor, and my dignity. A place in which I simply could not comprehend without me in it.
What would I be without it?
Nothing. I would be nothing without it is what I had convinced myself of.
Yet, as it is with all things, the throne had been crumbling since the moment it was presented to me.
Eventually I was going to have to journey on my own again.
Such are the cards the Fates have dealt me.
I can see clearly now that my throne is gone and never really was, except in times of rest, when I could offer of myself in return for the respite.
Such was the role of my crown.
As the Queen grew, the crown no longer fit.
She no longer fit.
The parties went on without her.
The address was changed.
The houselights removed.
What she had feared to lose she must let go. Sinking in the rotting compost of loss, which guarantees change, which fosters new growth, that which was now all around her. Accepting the death of an attachment of her soul. Welcoming the moment of rebirth into the nothing that comes with being everything she will never come to mean to this world; only to her heart.
To this momentary experience called LIFE.