Sorry, Not Sorry.

Hurt people hurt people. Is it true that sometimes we inevitably become our experiences? So, I’ve concluded that I need to be a better friend or a better person overall. Let me explain further.

One day, I looked up and saw my guard. One day, I breathed a little too hard, and my deep sigh was heavy. What was supposed to be a sigh of relief felt like pressure on my chest. Honey, and I didn’t even care. I was in full-on hermit mode, detached and withdrawn.

I got really good at dissociating. I became flighty and aloof. I was no longer reliable for a few reasons. I could barely rely on myself; I honestly barely trusted myself. I was finding myself again, but I was also sulking in my own shit.

I was dealing with my pile of emotions. I didn’t know where I was headed; my goals seemed scattered, and my progress seemed stagnant. I was unclear of what direction to go in because I no longer knew what I wanted. This was a part of my late-twenties funk. I was questioning everything.

Trying to make my next move my best move, but not knowing what move to make, kept me stagnant for a while. I was in my head about all of it; I felt like my thoughts were crippling me. My vision blurred, everything got fuzzy, and all of a sudden, I no longer knew where I was or where I was headed. I was trying not to be closed off because I felt like that would have made it worse, but I was anyway.

I didn’t want anything to do with anything or anyone. I found it hard to make space for people because I was in the midst of my own mess. I felt overwhelmed by those who wanted more of my time, energy, or attention. The smallest things overstimulated me. While I was trying to convince myself that I was perfectly fine, I was slowly losing myself.

I was losing my grip on the core of my existence, my purpose. I wasn’t fine. All of my distractions kept me occupied. Everything that kept me stuck, still, and negative had my attention, and it felt good at the time. It felt good for just a minute to not give a fuck at all.

I mistook self-commitment for self-destruction. I wasn’t really getting to know myself. I wasn’t really spending time with myself and learning how to enjoy my own company. I was filling my time with temporary pleasures to fill the voids in my life. I was closed off and repetitive; my daily routine was like clockwork, and it consisted of the same old toxic patterns.

I was invested in short reliefs that kept me going; it made me feel productive. I engaged in everything that didn’t serve me to feel like I was getting to know myself. I was trying to release a version of myself I wasn’t ready to let go of. I was in this weird in-between phase of my life. I wasn’t committed to my growth. So, I found all these vices that made me comfortable but stunted my growth.

I was a mess, and I was afraid to admit it to myself. I was flaky and indecisive with others because I wasn’t sure of myself. This was the hardest phase of my life because I didn’t know how to be happy anymore. It felt like I had hit a brick wall. I felt trapped in an in-between, a past self and my higher self.

I didn’t know how to reach where I was headed, and I was having trouble executing. It was different, so unfamiliar, and so uncomfortable. Not even having the strength to care, feeling stuck, and being completely ok was so new to me. Honestly, it felt like I was a baby, and my higher self just threw me in the deep end.

It was so easy to see my shit. I could only feel the weight of what I was going through because it was so heavy. I couldn’t see anything past my mess. I couldn’t show up for anyone outside of me. I was caught up, consumed in my shit, and selfish. I was unrecognizable, mentally and physically.

I used to be madly in love with people, relationships, communities, connections, etc. That was when I was innocent, and so was life. Everything was much simpler, and love was much easier to give and receive. I wanted nothing more than to love and be loved. Here I was, closed off to it all.

The lover girl that I once was, I loved relationships and the feeling of connecting with someone. I just loved the feeling of a lingering connection. Meeting someone, or being around someone, and feeling some emotional security, was all I needed. I rejected it all. I crossed paths with people willing to give, but there I was with my guard up.

I remember when my mom and sister would call me out for always saying I love you when I was leaving a room. It was so different; I was the only one in my family who was that comfortable saying the words “I love you” to anybody. I didn’t need a perfect time to say it. I didn’t need the time to feel convenient or necessary. I just loved letting people know that I loved them before leaving their presence.

Love wasn’t an investment in a deep connection or an emotional attachment. When I was a child, love was so broad and general. With experience, love became more complex. I guess love broke me. That’s my first time admitting that.

I guess I didn’t realize how closed off I was. Looking back, I see the efforts of others, but none of my own. I could do with or without people, and it showed. I do not blame those individuals for cutting me off. I have learned from them. Shoutout to them for not letting me play with their time.

Shoutout to those individuals for having strict boundaries. I now have some of my own. Through toxic attachment, I overextended myself and gave myself to the wrong people. I let my bad experiences guard my heart. That’s hard to admit because I would much rather stay open and be optimistic about love.

However, I feel like this confession will bring release and clarity. Not admitting how these experiences made me feel, for the sake of being open to new things, actually made me closed off because I had bottled up emotions. I wasn’t being honest with myself, and it hurt me more than it helped. As much as I wanted to blow off those who had anything to say about my lack thereof- how dare you feel a way when I’m obviously going through it- I had to look in the mirror. Yes, we are all dealing with shit, and as much as that is the perfect excuse, it’s also a lousy one.

We all have shit; there will always be something, and that’s what adulthood has taught me. There may never be a perfect time, but convenience is ok. Make time and space for those who bring value to your life. Make room for people who are worth it and ditch the losers who are just taking up space. Don’t waste time on the wrong people so you don’t miss out on the right ones- those who can make your life better.