Burn After Reading Vol. 1
A Dear Diary Moment
Looking back, it was inevitable. I tried to avoid it, to drown it out with work and school and the kids when they were little. I tried to circumvent it through pure will-power, effort, and force. I was not a statistic, a victim, or weak. I insisted that I was above average and quite “aware” — just a little stuck.
But what a Hero Journey that makes… What a peak, crescendo, zenith, a climax. Since my story couldn’t get much lower, any move would have me come out on top in comparison. I was a shoo-in. A sure winner. I was going to make it all work — because I could do anything, of course.
Well, now.
Then the years fall away like Dominos and *something* happens — snaps fingers— and cue: an internal struggle fueled by an existential crisis that annoyingly resembles teen angst — which, I assure you — it is not.
We cliff-hang over a precipice, staring at the clouds below… (what’s under those clouds anyway?)…Our energy becomes a force reverberating into the world around us. The excitement makes us salivate because it feels fertile, mysterious, and maybe even lucrative. Because it feels like a choice, like finally taking control.
The idea of reinventing yourself is exciting. Our inner voice declaring that “This time we will get it right,” imagining everything Just So. We feel electrified with the potential and our stomach does somersaults and we can’t seem to catch our breath. The power of possibility, the unknown, the dreaming, visualization, the manifestation.
In reality, it feels like chaos. It is not exciting or freeing. It feels like being overcome by your mistakes like a Voodoo doll covered in pins. Reinventing yourself requires you to evaluate, reflect, admit. It is lonely and feels shameful. The way you used to wear a strong front in defense becomes the place where you have to admit that you were hurt. And when you admit that hurt… well, it effing hurts.
The need for reinvention builds over time. One thing adds to the next until the ‘last straw’ floats down and we either purposely or accidentally open our eyes. And we shake our heads because we can’t believe it. For a little while, we band-aid the situation. We sit idly by and drown our sorrows in drink or work or through self-deprecation by wrongly feeling as though we are being selfish.
Unfortunately, the comforts of denial seem to be fleeting.
All that is left to do is to pull the pin and throw the grenade into your world. Giant Sequoias cannot reproduce without fire. Maybe we need a little fire, too. Obliterate, decimate, annihilate (in no particular order). Blow it up, my friend. Blow. It. Up.
After the fire subsides and the smoldering ash cools is when we grow.
Dear Diary,
Can I tell you how glad I am that I threw the grenade yet how sad I am that I had to throw it?
How can I ever really trust myself? After all the wrong turns I made… after having made so many mistakes before? Nearly impossible. And what does that even mean?
If this is my last chance, how do I not mess it up?
Admitting the part I played is also admitting that it wasn’t really all wrong turns and mistakes. Like before, I will do the best with the situation ahead of me.
Fearing regret is no way to live.
About the photo:
Giant sequoias are the largest trees on Earth. They can grow for more than 3,000 years.
