Turning Tables - The Journey Of A Year

Fifteenth week of Inspiring Happiness Project

    This months intention is about harmony. Not only is harmony conveyed in the music that has inspired each of the upcoming blog post, it is also about finding a balance in life. 
    Music has always been a part of my life and often I find myself forming a deep relationship with a song. There are certain songs that have the ability to reach into a place where unspoken feelings live and express what I cannot.     This week I am seeking harmony the only way I can, by sharing something that has been in dis-harmony for so long. Not only did my relationship form with Adele's "Turning Tables" because her voice is mesmerizing, but because when her song entered my life, it was able to express the way I felt in one of the most important relationships in my life.  

 

     July commemorated an anniversary of the most important and most challenging choices I’ve ever made with this relationship. The choice wasn’t planned or expected, nor did I think this was the only option left. For years, I tried so many things to make the relationship work, unaware that what I was doing would never make it better. Fights would erupt and would only leave me heartbroken.  

“Close enough to start a war. All that I have is on the floor. 

God only knows what we're fighting for. 

All that I say, you always say more.”

     Last year, our relationship reached a tipping point and this person’s life became so painful that they considered ending it all. 

“I can't keep up with your turning tables. 
Under your thumb I can't breathe.”

I was later informed that something I had said was what pushed them into this direction. My heart was scared and sad, “how could they consider ending their life?” My mind was confused and frustrated, “how could I be the cause? And my body felt ill as my back pain became more severe, leaving me unable to sit for any period of time. All at once I understood that I had lived a life feeling responsible for this person and their happiness. As if it was my obligation to ensure they wouldn’t end their life. And at this moment I felt I failed, I failed her, I failed my mother.  

“So, I won't let you close enough to hurt me. 

No, I won't rescue you to just desert me.” 

Later I was informed of an undiagnosed mental illness and I made a choice. I needed time to sift through these feelings of sadness, frustration and anger. I began to realize that the foundation of our relationship and who I thought I had to be was built on how effectively I responded to her. If I was stable and "in control" of my emotions, our relationship was better. I remember watching them so carefully, so not to upset the delicate balance I fought to establish in our family. I remember the lingering fear thinking if I didn’t make the right choice or say the right thing, that I may lose her. I remember times walking her down from fear or waking her up to joy. The memories haunted me, begging to be healed. And with that, I made the choice and I placed boundaries around our relationship. I didn't feel safe and so to protect myself, I tried to untangle the web between expectations, guilt and my own emotions. 

“I can't give you the heart you think you gave me. 

It's time to say goodbye to turning tables.”

As the days went on; I chose to not respond to the phone calls, voicemails, emails and letters she sent. Being asked when I would talk to her next and forgive her. But the words that were said and the pain that this caused was not something new to our relationship. I had grown quite used to a pattern of hurtful words and apologies, only to have it repeat weeks or months later. There were days that all I could do was just breathe. 

“Under haunted skies I see you. 

Where love is lost your ghost is found.”

Choosing to stop communicating with a parent is certainly not a societal norm and sometimes I think about what my life would look like if I hadn’t made the choice I did. Thinking, that maybe if I tried to express my feelings we could have a relationship again. But I’m not ready. There is a large part of me that feels afraid to even try. That my words would only be caught in the wind. So for now, I know that what I’m doing has changed me.

“I braved a hundred storms to leave you. 

As hard as you try, no, I will never be knocked down.” 

I knew it would be tough and that some people would understand, be compassionate and support me. I also knew some people wouldn’t understand and that my choices would be scrutinized. But I made the choice and I deserve the space to learn how to heal what needs to be healed.

Someone once told me “she did the best she could.” And I cried. While my heart agreed, standing beside that truth of that statement, I saw my abandoned emotions that were longing to be healed and I knew I was doing my best too. And I cried again.

“Next time I'll be braver. I'll be my own savior. 

When the thunder calls for me. Standing on my own two feet.”