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...over-educated and under-experienced, or so they say...

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Silver Chip

It’s been 9 months. Today is day #270. It is important to note that I have stopped counting, somewhat.  I mean, I used to count because it hurt.  Now I'm just counting because I committed to count out to 365.  In other words, I have reached the point of counting out of obligation to the task I set for myself as opposed to counting because I'm keeping track (if that makes any sense at all).

In the past 9 months I’ve experienced rage and bitterness, absolute sadness and depression, self-awareness and corner turning, and now this.

In the past three months, since achieving my “bronze chip” in February, I’ve made a conscious effort to shake off the bitter. It still pops up every once in a while, but I’ve learned to catch it when it happens and shut it down.

I’ve done my best to understand that this man created a bit of hell for himself through his own actions and, while I know he hurt me and my daughter, I also know he devastated himself.

I’ve done my best, and continue to do my best, to remind myself that this is something that had to happen the way it did because, had I married the man the way he is, it would have ultimately ended far worse (and significantly less humorous) than being dumped by the dumpster via text message six days before the wedding.

I have taken the advice of one of my greatest friends to heart and I have worked to remember who I am and own it.

I have made a conscious effort to practice forgiveness, not because I hope to mend this relationship someday but because the lack of forgiveness is harmful to myself and to my daughter.   

I have taken the energy that was somewhat destroying me and turned it into something that reconstructed me.

I have focused on my intellect.  I have focused on my creativity.  I have focused on my daughter.  I have focused on the few personal goals and dreams I have left.  And I have been better for it.

I have three more months before I hit my year mark.  To be honest, like I said, I'm not even sure why I'm counting anymore, other than the fact that I made a point to do so -- I made a point to track my journey of recovery and I gave myself a year.  And so... I think it needs to be said that in 9 months, as much as this bull shit hurt when it went down, I like who I've become, and continue to become, in the process.  I like what appears to be rising from the ashes.  I like embarking on something new.  And I like, for the first time in my life of weird ass bull shit experiences that I've had, that I actually paid attention to my own metamorphosis as I went through this lame ass shit.  (because most of the time, people just go through it blindly and wake up one day saying something like, "damn... I'm better than I was before, go figure!" and at least this time I have paid attention to the details leading up to the moment)

As Forest Gump said, shit happens... and his mama said, "you got to put the past behind you before you can move on," and sometimes if you just keep on running, even when you don't feel like it, you will eventually reach that point when you realize you're ready to go home.

My name is Pandora, and I have successfully completed 9 months of rejection recovery. 

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