More on this one later!
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
A Lesson in Disappearances
Today I was reminded how difficult, yet necessary it can be to let someone go.
So in the midst of these relationships dropping like calls on a Cricket phone, my boyfriend and I decided to take a break. In the deepest recesses of my heart I knew it was time to let go then. Calling it a break appeased the part of me still clutching on to the relationship's better days. And it had seen better days. Most of you know how this story goes...what was supposed to be a two-week-long break, turned into a month...turned into two months...turned into a man who had simply vanished into the abyss of boyfriends passed.
I left plenty of pillowcases tear-stained until finally, it seemed I was over it. I'd thrown myself into self-discovery, work, my friendships, and most importantly my faith. I didn't have time to dwell on the relationship that was no more. One day he just popped up to the forefront of my mind. I was angry at his cerebral return! He had snatched a part of my heart and disappeared with it. I wanted the piece back and I wanted my peace back. In order to retrieve said piece, I decided that I would write him The Letter detailing all of the ways in which he'd broken my heart. Then I would demand that he fix it by either returning the piece he'd taken in the form of an explanation and apology, or by reappearing in the form of the man I'd originally fallen in love with. I needed answers, and he had them. Or so I thought.
Let me be upfront here: I have played this game before. Girl meets boy. Boy woos girl. Coupledom ensues. Boy falls off the face of the Earth. Girl writes long, crazy love letter berating Boy, demanding answers, and finally begging to be taken back. Luckily enough I've got a new coach in the game.
Just as I began to type up this letter to my ex, something inside said You can ask why he disappeared. Just don't ask him; ask the one who put him there. So I prayed. Again. This time for answers. It's taken a while, but I'm getting it.
That is not to say we should not rely on people at all...far from it. Our interaction with people, the way we treat them and the way we love them, makes life worth living. However, co-dependence is never a good look, even in its mildest forms.
It's been a few weeks since I decided not to send The Letter. Today I learned some things about him that, stung at first, but are making it easier to release. More importantly, I've learned a few things about myself. I've given myself permission to hold onto some of the good without holding on to him. I've taken the time to re-evaluate my role in the demise and the beauty of the relationship; taken the grace to forgive myself for the things I did wrong and to ponder how to do them better the next time. It's tough. The inclination is to wipe the tears when they come, call myself a wuss and act like it doesn't still hurt a bit. To just "move on." To move into the next relationship before the wounds heal and the scars fade. I'm not interested in re-opening these wounds again, so this time, I'll take as much time as it takes to let go for real. I'll be a relationship champ by the end. Like I said, I've got a new coach.
| Source |
One significant element of my journey has been to realize where my support comes from. In April, I found myself praying that God would move me closer to Him, and that He would remove those who I had placed in the way. This little exercise in prayer was a testament to the power of our requests. People started dropping like flies: close friends, some family members, random men who were vying for my attention (my cell even mysteriously stopped sending and receiving text messages which could just be bad business from Verizon or it could be divine intervention to stop a booty call). For those of you who haven't prayed in a while: try and you might be surprised at the answers that come your way. I am constantly awed by the revelations I receive, when I just ask to be shown.
So in the midst of these relationships dropping like calls on a Cricket phone, my boyfriend and I decided to take a break. In the deepest recesses of my heart I knew it was time to let go then. Calling it a break appeased the part of me still clutching on to the relationship's better days. And it had seen better days. Most of you know how this story goes...what was supposed to be a two-week-long break, turned into a month...turned into two months...turned into a man who had simply vanished into the abyss of boyfriends passed.
I left plenty of pillowcases tear-stained until finally, it seemed I was over it. I'd thrown myself into self-discovery, work, my friendships, and most importantly my faith. I didn't have time to dwell on the relationship that was no more. One day he just popped up to the forefront of my mind. I was angry at his cerebral return! He had snatched a part of my heart and disappeared with it. I wanted the piece back and I wanted my peace back. In order to retrieve said piece, I decided that I would write him The Letter detailing all of the ways in which he'd broken my heart. Then I would demand that he fix it by either returning the piece he'd taken in the form of an explanation and apology, or by reappearing in the form of the man I'd originally fallen in love with. I needed answers, and he had them. Or so I thought.
Let me be upfront here: I have played this game before. Girl meets boy. Boy woos girl. Coupledom ensues. Boy falls off the face of the Earth. Girl writes long, crazy love letter berating Boy, demanding answers, and finally begging to be taken back. Luckily enough I've got a new coach in the game.
Just as I began to type up this letter to my ex, something inside said You can ask why he disappeared. Just don't ask him; ask the one who put him there. So I prayed. Again. This time for answers. It's taken a while, but I'm getting it.
Throughout our long-distance relationship, I'd relied on how often we talked, if he'd said just the right thing, if he made me feel beautiful, worthy...happy. I'd leaned on him completely when I had a bad day, and then had the nerve to rehash it all to my girl friends. I needed to stop the whiny phone calls to my girls; stop turning them into living room psychologists. And needed to stop relying on romantic relationships (or the illusion of them) to make me happy. I needed to stop quasi-co-depending.
When you think about it, it's not fair really that we ask people to take on the role of constant cheerleader and counselor. They are only human. They get tired of cheering. They will fail. We all do. There is nothing wrong with failing, except that when we place the essence of our bliss into the hands of people, we find ourselves up a creek when they fail us simply by being who they are: human.
When you think about it, it's not fair really that we ask people to take on the role of constant cheerleader and counselor. They are only human. They get tired of cheering. They will fail. We all do. There is nothing wrong with failing, except that when we place the essence of our bliss into the hands of people, we find ourselves up a creek when they fail us simply by being who they are: human.
That is not to say we should not rely on people at all...far from it. Our interaction with people, the way we treat them and the way we love them, makes life worth living. However, co-dependence is never a good look, even in its mildest forms.
It's been a few weeks since I decided not to send The Letter. Today I learned some things about him that, stung at first, but are making it easier to release. More importantly, I've learned a few things about myself. I've given myself permission to hold onto some of the good without holding on to him. I've taken the time to re-evaluate my role in the demise and the beauty of the relationship; taken the grace to forgive myself for the things I did wrong and to ponder how to do them better the next time. It's tough. The inclination is to wipe the tears when they come, call myself a wuss and act like it doesn't still hurt a bit. To just "move on." To move into the next relationship before the wounds heal and the scars fade. I'm not interested in re-opening these wounds again, so this time, I'll take as much time as it takes to let go for real. I'll be a relationship champ by the end. Like I said, I've got a new coach.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Who is BlissfulRiss?
I've always believed that I would "come back to Jesus" when I was older...I imagined it happening closer to 40 when I was done with booze and booty calls, cursing, clubs, and cattiness. Oh and my love for R&B crooners. That would have to go, too.You know, before I came back to Jesus. I thought God couldn't possibly be as into R. Kelly or Trey Songz as I was. I was wrong of course; He loves them more.
The problem of course was that while I sort of enjoyed all of those things (and to an extent still enjoy some of them in moderation), none of them left me feeling particularly good about myself or about life in general. But even though none of those things were "it," I still didn't want to give them up, and I just knew in order to be a good Christian girl, I had to come correct. Knew I had to come perfect. Oh the lies! My sister, who is an awesome woman of God, used to tell me that I didn't have to give up anything but my heart. That if I just turned it over to God, all the "bad" stuff would sort of....fall off. That...seemed....impossible. But I get it now.
In January of 2012 I found myself in a funk. I was a few months into a new gig, a promotion, that I'd thought would make me happy. A year into a relationship that should have made me happy. But I wasn't. Something was missing; I felt listless and out of touch. Work was a chore. Being Karissa became tedious. I was depressed, which is hard to admit...even though the very purpose of this blog is for me to write about overcoming that season of depression, just now my fingers rebelled against typing those words. It's hard to admit it out loud to the Interwebs. I, a strong, successful Black woman, suffered with depression.
I didn't (couldn't?) acknowledge I had a problem until around March. It was around that time I decided to seek God and to seek out counseling, and through those experiences I'm relearning who I am. I'm still me, with my quirks and eccentricities and my ambition and humor, but I am also moving towards the better version of myself. Like Karissa 2.0. She's always been there, this better version of me. I could see the back of her head rushing forward to fulfill the dreams of my heart, but it felt like there was a a river running between us. A gap between the insecure, confused, passionless girl I was, and the confident, peaceful, blissful woman I knew I could be. I'm swimming across the river now. These are the stories of how I'm getting there. I hope you'll come along, enjoy, and learn with and from me as I grow.
Love,
Karissa
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