I was just reminded of a time that a less evolved me was genuinely afraid at the loss of herself, for whenever I finally did evolve.
I would refer to myself in the third person to differentiate between the me that I was and the me I wanted to get to.
I wasn’t in a good place at the time. I was desperate to not feel so stuck. I was desperate to feel like I had control of my life. I was desperate to find my voice. Yet I was terrified for the me that would disappear, would get left behind, would be forgotten.
I was shrouded in sadness at the impending loss of her. That she, in some quasi alternate universe would be all alone. Every day I was mourning for her and I was overcome with such grief that I couldn’t evolve from her.
I was listening to a seminar on responsibility and accountability and moving away from victim mentality and I so greatly wanted that life, yet was devastated that in order to have it, a part of me essentially had to die. I pictured it as a scared child on a playground and just. walking. away. from her at her most vulnerable. I pictured personal growth as having two sides and one of them was tragedy.
I’m not sure when the black and white of it all calmed. Not focusing on every micromanaged thought helped. Focusing on what I would gain helped. I’m sure it would have helped too had I thought to consider that I could take the girl with me, instead of leaving her behind. And I suppose I did consider it. But it wasn’t an option. It was too heavy a burden to bear.
Of course, in the end, I did take her with me. You can’t just leave yourself behind. It takes a lot of personal growth to figure that part out.