This Ship Has Sailed

There is a sense of peace that only acceptance can offer.

Where expectations have captured you, acceptance can free you.

I accept that the only protection I ever had was that of my own artillery. I accept that my mother showed up all my life but was never present for me. I accept that my father barely showed up, but, when he did, the only present he brought was the gift of gab and empty promises. I accept that no matter how unqualified they were, here I stand.

Here I stand, not quite in the most upright stance, but I am learning to roll my shoulders back and hold my head high. See, I am in my listening season. After overexplaining all my life in hopes of being understood, I cease to explain again. I was trying so desperately to narrate my own story to everyone else that I forgot to simply exist as the main character in that same story.

We cannot both narrate and play our part, so may my actions speak the desires of my heart. I have nothing left to explain. I have nothing left to prove. I accept that this is my story. Not my story to tell, rather my story to navigate. The beauty of being the writer is the direction of my story is completely up to me.

I have spent the last decade reviewing the previous chapters in my story wanting so deeply to understand: why? Why must I be both the heroine and the villain? Why must character development be triggered by either a pivotal moment of pain or pleasure? Why is there a constant desire for outside validation when we're all just... winging it. No matter how valid the inquisitions, they did not lead me to a better position because I seemed to always forget I have the pen.

I have blown through so much money in my lifetime, yet the time I spent sulking is my most costly experience thus far. I spent so much time trying to understand parts of my story that were already written instead of turning the page and brainstorming what I wanted to create next. Moving forward with my story seemed impossible when there were always new developments in previous chapters.

How? How are completed chapters still developing? How am I healing, but my wounds still wet to the touch? How do I forgive when my impeccable memory will never allow me to forget?

It's simple, just turn the page.

Chapters that are seemingly completed are still developing because if you revisit them enough times, you will find space for revisions. However, revised does not equal renewed. We can word a thought many different ways, but no matter the rendition, it's the same exact thought. Even going in circles can give you the illusion of proper movement, turn the page.

We can be both the heroine and villain because our story is centered around us. We are here to navigate , not narrate. This leaves others to gather their own interpretation and conclude accordingly. You will be the heroine in one person's story, and the villain in someone else's.

Who will you be in yours?

Before you decide, you must first accept.

I accept I have been the heroine. I accept I have been the villain. I accept my trauma. I accept my triumphs. I accept my pain. I accept my pleasure. I accept my highs. I accept my lows. I accept people as they come. I accept people as they go. I accept that I won't forget. I accept that I must forgive.

Duality is what makes a story whole. It is what brings ideas and experiences around full circle. The cup does not have to be half empty or half full. As long as there is substance, there is great potential.

Duality allows opposing ideals to equally exist. This is your story. You are navigating this story. You can change directions at any time. You can operate within any of these roles at any given time because substance must flow. Whatever that flow looks like for you is representative of your substance. May your actions speak the desires of your heart.

I choose to accept, so I can grow with the flow.

Much like a ship on calm waters, I accept because I desire a flow of peace and calmness.

To calmer waters I continue to flow, away from the stagnancy of constant reflection, inquisition, and resentment.

This ship has sailed.