My faith in humanity was shattered.
The world felt a little less safe.
Justice seemed to slip from my hands.
I reached out to others in the hopes of finding support or sympathy or some words of encouragement. Maybe a little of all three.
I got nothing.
The heartache and devastation took a toll. Numb, I withdrew into myself. It became apparent there was no one I could rely on, so I shut down.
I had no energy to do anything beyond the necessary tasks to get me back to bed at night.
The Ripple Effect
It’s been 4 months since that devastating day, but the wound still feels fresh. I’ve come to realize how much time and effort I’ve put into maintaining certain aspects of my life, particularly when it comes to connections and relationships, and without that effort, things fall away.
And it appears that others are fine with letting that happen.
I did what I could to embrace radical acceptance. I tried to tell myself that even if I wasn’t getting what I wanted/needed/expected from others, whatever they were giving me was what they were capable of — and I should be grateful.
Yet, there were a lot of things I couldn’t come to terms with.
I accepted that maybe the people in my life couldn’t be there for me the way I needed. Fine. That’s who they are, and I can’t change that. But I wasn’t going to settle for crumbs or being the one who had to constantly reach out for acknowledgement and assistance.
I didn’t have the energy — and I still don’t.
If you recall my blog about what you deserve versus what you get, this event is where the line of questioning came from.
Accepting People for Who They Are
Sometimes, it’s a hard pill to swallow to find out that the people you rely on the most can’t be there for you. That they may be emotionally distant or have their own issues to deal with. It’s even more debilitating to think of how many times I’ve gone out of my way to make sure others felt loved and validated despite what I was going through.
But maybe that’s just the people pleaser in me.
Accepting people for who they are means recognizing that more often than not, I may have to be the one who reaches out first. Or that the conversations we have are surface-level (potentially about the weather), or even that they may only pop into my life when they want something from me.
But here’s the thing: while I can accept these things about the people in my life, that doesn’t mean I have to put up with them.
I don’t have to expend my energy or give up my time to maintain the connection. I can expect more, knowing that I won’t get it, and move on. I can find ways to take care of myself or look for others who provide me with what I need.
The Dynamic Changes
Knowing that I have a say in what and who I let into my life is both devastating and freeing. On one hand, it means letting go of people and situations that no longer serve me. This is especially hard if there’s a history with a particular person.
There’s always hope deep down that things will change; that if I continue to stay in contact or be there when needed, the other person will see my dedication and realize they need to provide me with the same.
But this only hurts me. It keeps me trapped in situations that continuously leave me frustrated and stressed.
The alternatives include breaking or altering the connection. That’s not easy either. And knowing which one is the best option requires trial and error — and a lot of heartache.
But at the end of the day, healing is a journey taken alone.
Only I know what’s best for me.
While I can tell others what I want and need from them, I can’t make them provide it. I don’t always approach these situations in the best manner; my trauma and hurt usually have me make knee-jerk reactions where I cut all contact and shut down, maybe even lash out in frustration and anger.
But I’m human. I’m prone to mistakes. Other humans should be able to recognize that and respond accordingly.
Of course, what I think that response should be might differ from what it really is. Only I can decide if I’m okay with that or if I must move on.
Life will never be fair, justice will rarely be served, and not everyone I meet will provide me with what I need. But that doesn’t mean I have to be weighed down. I hold the key to my contentment. I have to decide what’s best for me.
That might mean severing ties and closing myself off.
