On Acceptance

It seems that acceptance comes when you least expect it.  Loss is difficult to cope with, and it always seems like acceptance will never be a possibility.  Throughout this whole process, prior to this week even, it seemed that I would never be able to truly accept the inevitable, even though it was just that--inevitable.

I denied it for so long.  In fact, I denied it so vehemently that I convinced myself that I was lost in the romanticism of a tragically beautiful relationship, one that would conclude with a happily ever after, two and a half kids, and some white picket fences.  But then I felt angry when none of these visions came true.  I was angry at myself, angry at my happy friends, angry at him--just angry.  Why did this have to happen to me? ran through my mind every day.  Who put this situation on my shoulders? even though it was me doing it to myself the whole time.

While I did not recognize it at the time, I even bargained with myself.  Well, Paul, if you put in a couple years, he'll certainly recognize how much you love him.  Then, at that time, it will all have been worth it.  You'll have it all, and you'll be happy.  Then, a couple of years passed, and I became depressed, sad, and utterly lonely.  My friends and family attempted to console me, but our conversations always ended in, "Well, I just don't know what to say.  You have to decide for yourself."

After years of this pattern, acceptance eventually came.  It came when I least expected it.  This past weekend, I went to look at apartments, which was undeniably difficult for me.  I scanned Craigslist, picked out one that I would view, and I went to see it.  I have to admit, I was less than pleased with the room.  The sad walls' paint seemed to be sliding off, the floor stared up at me angrily, battered and bruised, and an odd stench hung in the air.  Certainly, it wasn't the place for me, but I had pretty much told myself that this would be as good as it gets.

I drove to the apartment company, building myself up little by little. I had never felt so unsure.  I was so unsure that I was almost ready to fall back into something I knew I did not want to fall back into.  My whole body felt weak, and the cold air seemed to sting as I got out of my car.  I approached the door, in somewhat of a shock that I was actually about to do this.  My reflection glared at me as I walked in, but seeing another one of me almost helped me to talk myself down.  You can do this, I thought.

Of course, I had to wait.  My heart beat faster, and I started to sweat.  Can't we just get this over with?

 Finally, the girl in front of me was finished, and I stepped up.  While it seems rather silly, the next words I uttered were some of the most difficult in quite some time.

"Uhh, I'm here to put in an application for the studio on Briar," I stammered.  I did it.  See?  You had it in you.

"Oh, no," she replied. "I think that one was just rented."

My heart sank, and I'm sure my face paralleled its melting.  "It's okay," I said. "No big deal! I understand."

Lies. Lies. Lies.

I didn't understand.  I went back to my car and wept uncontrollably.  Didn't you see what I just did? I thought, talking to God or maybe just the purely cerebral version of myself. I faced my fear!  I did the one thing I never thought I could do!  And look what happened!  I failed.  Again.  I'm right back where I started.  No apartment, no independence. Stuck.  

That moment--that moment of desperation, self-pity, utter depression, and hopelessness was exactly what I feared.  Being single never seemed to scare me that much, and the thought of living on my own was actually rather enticing.  What scared me the most was the feeling that I had failed miserably.  And of course, this wasn't about the apartment.  It was about five years of effort, five years of enabling, five years of trying to do the right thing, five years of complacency--all which managed to leave me right back where I started.  I really was going to have to figure this out on my own, no excuses.  I was going to have to depend on me.

I started to drive home, my face stinging from the newly dried tears.  Abruptly, I came to the staunch realization that the world around me was still moving.  People walked holding hands, taxis still moved about their business as usual, and look, even I was still moving.  The world didn't end, I didn't end, and the feelings slowly began to subside.

When I arrived at home, I finally realized that I had nothing to be scared of.  Yes, I was sad, and yes, I might be sad again sometime, but what I was doing was right.  I was not afraid of that moment anymore, because I knew I'd come out of it.  I accepted it, I didn't pity myself for feeling that sad, and I moved on.

I opened my computer, and began looking for more apartments.