It's As Simple As That

"Addicted to the love I found
Heavy heart, now a weightless cloud
Making time for the ones that count
I'll spend the rest of my time
Laughing hard with the windows down
Leaving footprints all over town
Keeping faith karma comes around

Catch my breath, no one can hold me back, I ain't got time for that
Catch my breath, won't let them get me down, it's all so simple now"

~Kelly Clarkson, Catching My Breath

After this song was released, one of my best friends told me the lyrics reminded her of me. I didn't understand. 

And it took a while for me to comprehend what other people had been noticing for the better part of a year: I was different.

***

Change is something I’ve always tried to ease into, partly because I dislike it so much and partly because patterns are comfortable, familiar, and “easy.”

I’d get a new boyfriend because the last one treated me badly, only to discover the new one did, too.

I’d change jobs because I wasn’t paid enough, respected enough, challenged enough, and realize I’d gotten myself into an identical situation with my new employer.

I’d go out, get wasted, and make bad decisions to deal with (a.k.a. forget about) my problems. Staying in, getting wasted, and making bad decisions wasn’t much of an improvement, and truth be told, probably landed me in just as many (if not more) dangerous situations.

I’d psychoanalyze everyone else and try to “fix” them because I was too afraid to take a good, hard look at myself.

I’d use people for their love and companionship because I didn’t believe I was capable of standing on my own two feet; I thought I needed a crutch to lean on.

And then I decided I didn’t want to feel like that anymore, or ever again, so I made an appointment with a counselor to get to the bottom of the issue(s).

I want to say it’s been easy, but it hasn’t. And I want to say it’s been hard, but it hasn’t.

Everything happened so gradually, it’s difficult to pinpoint when I realized I was different (or better). The turning point was probably in December, when my counselor asked me if I thought I needed to make another appointment or if I felt comfortable calling her if something came up, and I confidently chose the latter.

Then I stayed in for New Year’s Eve—a drastic difference from last year’s extravaganza complete with a new dress, new shoes, new jewelry, too much alcohol and a 22-year-old I couldn’t remember meeting, let alone giving my number to, when he texted me a couple days later. (I feel like it’s important to note that I have great friends who make certain I come home with them. Alone. :))

After New Year’s Eve, I thought back to my recent achievements:

• Not getting hit on in a bar by drunk idiots. (No, most wouldn’t consider this an achievement, but I do, because before, I’d appease them, feel uncomfortable all night, give them my number, and have to dodge them for days—if not weeks—after the incident. Now, I don’t even attract that kind of energy. Oh, you’re intoxicated and being ridiculous? Yeah, don’t talk to me. [And they don’t.])
• Taking a leap of faith for a job that’s turning into something really special.
• Doing yoga or deep breathing when I’m upset or stressed as opposed to opening a bottle of wine.
• Dealing with my own issues instead of trying to fix everyone else.
• Realizing, once and for all, I’m completely capable of standing on my own two feet.  

Do I miss her, that girl I used to be? Not really, because I see her—in one way or another—almost every day.

In the girl sitting next to the boy she loves, trying desperately to relax because she’s almost sure he loves her, too.

In the boy who goes above and beyond at work, coming in early, staying late, trying to win the respect of his colleagues and superiors.

In the girl shooting tequila and dancing on a bar because it’s “fun,” or consuming a bottle of wine and then crying about how awful her life is.

In the boy who tells his friends they’re not happy at work or at home, and have they considered switching careers? A trial separation?

In the girl who always has a boyfriend, and if she doesn’t, a serious crush. She justifies the relationship even if she isn’t happy. She convinces herself she needs him, even if things are far from perfect.

She's still a part of me, really. And that's okay, because life is gray, and I believe those who try to make it black and white are setting themselves up for disappointment. 

Sometimes, you’re going to love people you shouldn’t. Sometimes, the job you work so hard at becomes menial and unfulfilling. Sometimes, getting drunk really is the best solution. Sometimes, it’s okay to concentrate on others’ problems instead of your own. Sometimes, a person who begins as a crutch turns into a friend, or, maybe once in a lifetime, someone who changes you for the better by putting you on a path you didn’t know you were destined to travel down. But, looking back, you're certain it couldn’t have happened any other way.

I guess the trick is to realize when you’re caught up in repeating a pattern and when you’re genuinely pulled toward something or someone.  Once you figure it out, you'll know exactly what to do. 

And you'll believe Kelly when she says: It's all so simple now.