Casting Off

The art of letting go.

Why is it that I find it so much easier to let go of the ledge and fall into the void they call love, and so goddamned difficult to let go of that swirling ghost ride when it is over?

It’s a good question.  One I do not have the answer to.

I had thoughts today. Dark, dangerous, impulsive thoughts.  Thoughts that, while they swirled through my mind in an angry I buzz, revealed to me the fact that I have still not let go.  I have not disengaged where I really need to most.  Where it matters most.

And I need to.

In boating, there is always one last rope that you must cast off before you are free of the dock.  My rope is still tethered to the dock, my boat bobbing in the water, waiting to ride the currents.  If only I could cast off that line, I could be free to begin the journey I am meant to travel.

It creates a sense of frustration, a feeling of impotent rage.  The struggling within myself to accept what is not going to change, to accept the things that have changed, and to accept that the twists and turns of fate have brought me here, to this point of being that feels so unfamiliar to me.  My life itself feels unfamiliar to me.  Like I have put brand new shoes on the wrong feet and I am running in a marathon, trying to figure out why I am struggling and everyone else is breezing past me.  The answer is so clear.  Let go.  Let go of the anger.  Let go of the pain.  Let go of the people who didn’t value me enough to stay present in my life.  Let go of the transients that were just passing through.  Just let fucking go.

Let go of the emotions that are stuffed down so deep inside my immune system is fighting against itself.  Let go of the hurt and the doubt.  Let go of the blackness that is swirling around me, sucking me into a vortex of darkness.  Let go of the guilt.  Let go of the blame.  Let go of the versions of myself that are not true to who I am.  Stop trying to be the fantasy and just be me.  Let go of the past so I can see the woman staring back at me in the mirror clearly.  Maybe for the first time in my life.

I need to swap those running shoes, grab that bitch of a rope and cast off.  Let this journey begin before my time runs out.

13 Comments

Filed under Tender

13 responses to “Casting Off

  1. I hope writing this has helped you to cast off this heavy rope. Huge hug from here, been there sister it isn’t easy but when you do let go that boat of yours is in for one sweet ride! xo

  2. “The answer is so clear. Let go.”

    The answer is easy. The execution is not. Permit yourself time to breathe through it.

  3. This in now way corresponds to boating, but I think letting go is an ongoing process, like grief. We let go a little … then, oops, we’ve grabbed hold again.
    I think it’s more like learning how to walk. We take our first hesitant steps, then decide we need to crawl around on the floor some more. Next time, we’ll take a few more steps, maybe while holding onto the furniture, then we’ll go back to crawling. Eventually we’re full-fledged walkers and free of the bonds that held us to the floor, but perhaps every once in a while, we find ourselves on our hands and knees. Just for nostalgia’s sake.

    My you find your sure step.

  4. I understand this completely. I must have had an oceanliner with so many ropes, it must have resembled a waterfall. One rope at a time and sometimes you need a machete and sometimes you need to undo the braiding itself. Sometimes, it’s also letting go of the very ideas you think are true. It gets a little twilight zone and I can’t explain it well but it has something to do with letting go og letting go because you are already in motion and it will happen when you’re there. xo, Jayne

  5. sorry – “letting go of letting go”

Now It's Your Turn...Thrill Me!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s