One Before the Other

At the end of this 12 weeks I expected something amazing to happen, perhaps fireworks out of nowhere. I don't know. I think I expected some sort of great explosion and suddenly the entire World would make sense and I'd have found my direct path to having everything I want out of life. What I have discovered is that my entire life does in fact needed to be dedicated to becoming the best-version-of-myself. For a while that seemed easy, I'd simply ask myself which choice makes me become the best version I can. Do I eat chicken and veggies after the gym, or swing by McDonald's because it is easier? Do I spend $400 on a new phone simply because I want it and it will make me happy for a few moments? Probably not the best idea.

I've discovered that the decisions become harder and harder when they start to become feelings of the heart. Sometimes the most painful things teach you the most. It seems so hard to always try and look for a light, a meaning, a sign, or something you are supposed to learn from a situation. It's hard to remember that everything that everyone does they do because they sincerely think it will make them happy. I've been doing better at thinking before I respond. Not so much as to take a breath and relax, but to stop and really think about the entire picture. Since this is new for me, it takes me a while to weigh things out and the responses don't always come so quickly. I've found that silence is by far becoming my best friend. To simply sit in silence, the World seems to speak directly into your ear. The ability to sit with myself, without the tv, without music, without a phone call or a roommate has become increasingly valuable. I used to think that crying was the best therapy to get emotion out, but I'm slowly discovering silence.

At my therapists office this last week, I was talking about intimacy and how I feel the need to always be talking when I'm with someone I care about. I was explaining my fear of silence and how I feel like I HAVE to fill it, because if I don't, then maybe nothing is there. Silence with my alone doesn't scare me, silence with someone else terrifies me. My therapist asked me if I realized that silence can also be a form of intimacy. And no, I hadn't. As a child I was always trying to fill every pocket of silence with something. I figured that if I didn't fill the silence, then someone or something else would and it might not be pleasant. Over time, I trained myself to jump into action during silence, it always kept all the guns and weapons down. Now, in trying to embrace silence, I find both peace and anxiety. My first course of action in embracing silence is to try and hand over control to it. To a certain extent that means handing over control to nothing, not even someone else, or something else, but to nothing. Can I learn to allow silence to take control of me and lead into more clarity.