The Lesson of a Lifetime

The Lesson of a Lifetime

Or a Timeless Tempo Modulation

Recognizing patterns can be tricky—especially when you want (or don’t want) to see something as it truly is. I found myself in the aftermath of an experience so seismic it shattered the blueprints of my psyche—blueprints I had always believed I’d drawn up myself but were likely etched long before I had the chance to choose.

Breaking free of recurring generational habits and undiagnosed turmoil feels like a reverberating, timeless lesson. Yet, the echo I’ve been longing to tune my story to is finally making the right sound waves, pulling the tides of my soul in the right direction, tempo, and intention. But to reflect, resound, reshape, and rewrite, I had to birth, nurture, and eventually release countless healing tactics. I also had to sit patiently with the deepest, most painful, yet profound sessions in these lessons of a lifetime.

(The score, so far, has been top-notch—might as well end this reflection with its proverbial soundtrack.)

Circa End of 2023:
Pre-earth-shattering introduction to my television romance from hell.

“My two most intense, soul-stripping stories came from the false accusation that love was behind them. I mustn't stop believing in love. I should learn the difference between an undeniable connection and a sleazy-ass salesman. I don’t need any new cars. Shit, Howdy!”

Cut to Present Day:
Post-reconstructive philosophical and emotional surgery:

Never let anyone else hold the pen while you’re writing the story of your life. (Credit: bathroom art. Obsessed.)

Instead of drafting a play-by-play as tragic as a streaming service’s latest remake, I’d rather share my final goodbye letter below. Consider it sparing you all the gory, Black Mirror-type details. You’re so welcome. Thanks for being here. :)

____________________________________________________

2/16/24

It’s monumentally fucked up how you can run away and tell everyone you’ve been broken down and had to return from a destructive relationship when, IN REALITY, you lied to me about everything and most likely never cared about me in the first place.

You can’t claim to have felt anything by how you ended us; you can’t hide how cheaply you just carried yourself and your untreated mental health issues thru my life like your demons weren’t the reason for the traumatic path of destruction I’m now left alone with. I just gave 10 months of my life to a ghost with an insidious, noxious agenda. A sadistic, masterfully manipulative, psychopathic, torturous, twisted halfwit who is dead inside. And you have to be a fraud to cope.

Either own up to the fact that you needed someone to get even with your ex to ever be able to move on with her OR honorably claim you had no idea what you wanted—or didn’t want— though your words seemed misleading—and you deeply hurt a bamboozled, good-hearted person in the process of validating you’re nothing more than a distasteful alcoholic who has already given up.

If you try to continue to live a lie and play it off as well as you’ve shown such a capacity, at least you have copies* of your end of this too, now. If you won’t admit shit, at least remember it. I can’t stop you from erasing your years but hopefully, you can give yourself a chance to learn something with which to replace your fears. Sit with it until you abhor the butterfly effects of your sick tricks. Or else you’ll just be losing time like your mind. Hiding behind all those screens. You’ll fry yourself biochemically.

Give it up, folks.

Con of the century.

*copies of everything he had written me. We both had our own binders of all things written. He had my words. I had his. So, in his last remaining box after the move --that his contacts picked up in my driveway-- I secretly included his copies topped with this epic fucking letter. ____________________________________________________

I don’t know if my “Dear John, fuck you” letter has landed in front of the deserving eyes yet—or if it ever will. But I’ve learned there’s power in writing for myself. As therapeutic as articulating anger can be, the hardest lesson was realizing I couldn’t teach him one. Instead, it detonated a blast so profound I’ll never be the same.

I know I’m grateful. Because I’ve taken the steps to become the woman I’ve always wanted to be. But damn.

The Echos:

Reflect. Reveal. Release. Repair. Restrengthen. Revolutionize.

Now, you may be thinking, “Jesus, that was harsh” but some things aren’t right. And it’s unacceptable that this sort of treatment or behavior is normalized. If you lie your ass off to someone just to use and abuse them, I’m going to fucking call you out. Fuck you.

Beat change.

It’s a hauntingly beautiful piece of music class that could have very well been played out a hundred times in an evil simulation or a sort of left-field pop quiz this student had no idea was coming. Who knows? Feels more like the former, though, after tremendous reflection that was often argued more than “needed”—or “standard”— in our instantaneous and cancel culture-brainwashed world we are living in today.

Saging motto: We are freeing this space of unwelcome energy and preparing a blank slate for pure intentional beginnings.

For new lessons. In the years to come. Give me those next-level melodies on the meaning of life. Ha! I’m tuned in.

In contrast to this deep and heavy lesson fading into the distance, here’s a list of some of my most gratifying and proud accomplishments that followed:

* Volunteered at my first music festival and won the “Splish Splash Rainbow Fish” award for going above and beyond. (I felt like the Prom Queen!)

* Became an official band merchandise seller for some of my favorite local bands.

* Started regularly seeing a therapist for the first time in my life—and loving it.

* Embraced “pro-CRAFT-ination” as a healing outlet while waiting three months to be matched with my therapist. I made fun trinkets to sell alongside merch tables and found joy in the smiles they brought to lovely people.

* Starred in a music video for a song titled “Good Vibes”. (What?! Still processing this one!)

* Spearheaded a “silly goose summer” that extended beyond my core crew and tribe.

* Found comfort in my individuality, realizing I am enough, and seeing the love I put out reflected back to me.

* Learned to balance my perfectionistic tendencies while seizing the moment.

* Chose sobriety for myself and discovered a sober life is infinitely more fulfilling than a spotty or hungover one.

* Navigated a challenging moment when a teammate described my persistence as “uncomfortable” at the end of a special project. I respected their boundaries, reflected, and moved on. (Tough stuff but worth it.)

* Managed the successful neutering surgery of my pride and joy, Rainier, my 6-year-old Great Pyrenees.

* Co-wrote a song with a friend about a topic that was initially semi-triggering but now only makes me laugh. Bonus: I got to exercise my groovy bones in the process.

The echoing sound in my mind now is that of faint laughter across the water, low and warm, a background hug.

Noteworthy Soundtrack for 2024

1. CN2U, Spunj

2. Wyoming, Whalien

3. Stuck, Lost Ox

4. Disco Snails, Vulfmon, Zachary Barker

5. Lady Don’t Tek No, Latryx

6. Got to Be Who U Are, Ibibio Sound Machine

7. DJ, David Bowie

8. Johnny Tokyo, Man on TV

9. Good Vibes, Eclectrick

10. Blue, Billie Eilish

11. Vol. 3 #86 (Live), Dopapod

12. No Occasion, Karina Rykman

13. So many untitled jams by Cytrus, but one recorded on 5/1/24, especially

14. Rick Rubin, Whalien

And a handful of unreleased deep cuts that served a ten-course meal in the moment —and that moment isn’t even over yet. But, got me through what I needed to get through.

With the year coming to a close, I’m feeling more ready this time for whatever lesson comes next. It’s a little bizarre to remember how hopeless and shutdown I truly was at the beginning.