Looking for reasons why things would fail used to be a big part of my day.
I devoted hours to it. Always poking around under the hood for clues to prove that whoever I’d gotten close to was up to no good. That I was going to get hurt. That people were evil.
Reviewing all the data at frequent intervals.
If that all sounds dumb it’s because it was.
I didn’t trust people or the cosmos. I knew the fingerprints were somewhere, I just had to find them. Keep dusting, keep analyzing. Always teetering on the brink of crazy.
Where is the evidence?
When I didn’t find any, it didn’t matter. I knew something was there somewhere. I just had to keep looking. Patiently waiting for some unspoken testimony because sooner or later I’d get a confirmation, a conviction, and then all my doubts and nightmares would come true.
And then if I did get absolute confirmation that there was indeed absolutely nothing going on, I couldn’t even relax with the sound judgement that everything was good. I was too battle-exhausted from my search. I was too shaken by the possibility that it could happen, that I could find something.
I needed to stop looking for proof. Do you know what happened when I did look? I made the very people who loved me crazy. I pushed them away until they left.
I’m divorced twice. It’s a real thing that we bring what we most fear into our lives by being absurdly afraid of it.
Looking at my case files it’s pretty clear now that it was never about the other person or what they were doing. It was about me and my insecurities. I needed to “quit” all the scrutiny if I wanted to have a healthy, peaceful connection with another person.
With Sara, I still keep a close eye on things but in this very moment I look for proof why things *will* work. Reverse the numbers and flip the math. Cherish the very reasons why love wins. Embrace what flows freely when I be my best self.
And then all my hopes and dreams come true.