Apparently March is the month I do all of my introspection. It’s no mystery of course. March is when everything has changed for me, several times in fact. Funny, how even the knowledge of this has not prevented me from major cock-ups during this month. But then, no one ever really knows how a seemingly innocuous comment could be taken (or taken out of context). Or by my late 20’s and early 30’s perhaps I should have just known better. (and learned to keep my mouth shut)
I’m 38, and I don’t think I know any better now, than I did 14 years ago, or a decade ago, or in 2007. I’m still the screwed up girl, who analyses everything like she lives in a fishbowl, who lives her life focused on the worst moments and biggest mistakes that she’s made.
Maybe it’s because I learned in the 8th grade that people who forget the past are condemned to repeat it. Maybe it’s because I am an old soul. Or maybe it’s how my brain is wired.
Every year I swear I won’t write one of these posts, that this will be the year that everything changes. And as much as things change, they remain the same. I remain in this space, in this holding pattern, waiting to be saved from myself.
I’m not 13, and he’s not coming to save you from yourself again. I’m not 24 and about to make the biggest mistake of my life.
24, holy hell. I was 24. I was stupid and immature and should have known better, yes. I should have listened to the people who *really* knew me, not someone who was fooled by what was on the outside, not on the inside. Perhaps that is what this is all about, some sort of warped penance for screwing up the best friendship in this world, and others that I had built along the way. Even after all this time, even after forgiveness, it still eats at me to the core, my thoughtless words and actions.
Maybe this will be the year I finally forgive myself?