. . . when to fight for something or to let it go?
I have been struggling with this question for quite some time. As of late I feel like I too readily give up things, accepting that “things happen for a reason.” Things may not work out. They may even blow up in my face. My eyelashes get singed. I feel. I think. I reflect. I examine. I then attempt to remedy the perceived problem only to receive a second+ degree burn or two –> I throw up my hands, yelp “I get it!”, and make a quick exit.
Some of my earlier posts deal with my need to let things go. But discerning what to do when something – well, in all honestly, that something is a someone; but the question applies to many areas of my life – seems to be worth fighting for is so difficult. Insert: stamping of foot and pouting like a four-year old.
Maybe the problem is that I was doing well. Or at least I thought and felt like I was doing well. I did not give a lick. I went on with my life. The anger and disappointment dissolved. I processed. I pursued health. I grew stronger. Then a week and a half ago I got on an airplane and it all came flooding back: you, us, the future you promised and I saw forming. The worst part is I should have seen that this was going to happen. I did not lose what I gained but the questions flared up. Again.
How much do I listen to my heart and its longing? How much do I trust that where I am is where I need to be? When do I put down my foot and declare (with proverbial shotgun in hand), “I will not be moved” and start fighting? At what point do I accept that I am worth more, willingly release it, and move forward to make space for a greater yes?
Maybe the chaotic and perplexing beauty of these and similar questions is found in the ability, or at least the willingness to hold what seem like diametrically opposing thoughts and feelings at the same time. Maybe. . .