Don’t go back!
Never go back.
Yeah yeah! They say “never say never” for a reason but whatever the word is to never, use it. Going back doesn’t change a thing. After my divorce I went back. Oddly enough, before I decided to go back or should I say we went back, (we both did and failed) I read that over seventy percent of divorced couples go back to end up breaking up again.
We go back believing we have changed. How long does it take people to change drastically enough to make it last a second time around! I’m not saying from teen love to adult commitment. How mentally, philosophically could we have grown individually to be able to blend once again as one? We go back to prevent failure possibly, that boding spell of not making it stick, being poor achievers.
It’s the same with situations and people. We break up to make up. I see that too often. I see couples who are breaking up every other week. When they’re together they say how horrible the other is and when they break up, they feel so lonely or unwanted or can’t deal with singleness they run right back into the arms of what wasn’t working again, and again and again. The insanity!
When I left my job where I was miserable for seven years, harassed beyond measure I left to never go back again. Then life slapped me as it usually does, because I’m its bitch striving to hold on to what doesn’t work, I had one viable option: go back. Swallow integrity, what never worked so I can put food on the table and shelter over my dependents who can’t be the grown up. I thought about all these men, providers from long ago in long forgotten Hollywood movies, long gone eras who who would wake up every day to do what they hate, go where they are not appreciated so they can provide for their family. They took pride in that. That was the definition of manhood. Provider. Protector. Manhood. Synonyms then.
I became the man at that moment, the provider and protector of old or convinced myself I ought to be, do the right thing, swallow the bitter experience and go back. That’s what a grown up would do. But I knew, I know that going back meant more than that, I’d be selling my soul, accepting what I know to be bad and wasn’t for me, like going back to the man who battered you for your children’s sake or a woman who strips you of your sense of self so the kids can have a father, right? But I’d be a better man, a greater person, a good mom wouldn’t I? Right?
Being a grown up means doing the wrong things for the right end doesn’t it? Being good is exemplified by martyrdom, self effacing acts right? It’s the right thing to do, sell your soul, erase your desires, what’s right for you for another? It costs to be grown. Adulthood comes at a price no one wants to pay anymore. So we regress. The pursuit of happiness is in the mirror.
When one door closes, another opens but that’s not true at all. The paths don’t open up for you, they’re either there or you bend low to pave them yourself. Just like there’s plenty of fish in the sea yet none for you. Or you just don’t like fish. You like oysters or worse cows but you’re stuck in the damn sea or birds but you can’t fly.
If it’s meant to be, will be but you only truly have one chance to do it right. Going back shouldn’t be an option to do what you couldn’t or didn’t do before.
Go back, lose yourself.
Don’t go back, expand your realm.
Do you know the way to happy? Do you know how to get there? What do you believe? What do you want?