Reconcile

I've been mulling over this word for a few weeks. Reconcile. I say it to myself, roll it around my tongue. I feel it. I taste it. I mutter it out loud. And then again I mull.

Reconcile. What does it really mean? Does it mean I let go? Of my past, of my expectations, of the future I had once dreamt of having? Does it mean a resolution to the constant tug-of-war that goes on inside me? There are so many things I must reconcile with. Such differences between what I think and reality.

I must reconcile with the fact that I am no longer the girl with the funky beads and multi-colored jhola riding an Eliminator. That beautiful piece of machinery rests with the ex and though it was my first love and I want to pass it on to my son it is unlikely that I will be a regular rider anymore. Yet I so desperately cling to that thought.

I have awesome friends, talented, beautiful, successful, sought after for many things. They intimidate me. Their unwavering love and faith in me intimidates me. Because I cannot, hard as I may try, reconcile my opinion of myself with what they have to say about me.

A good blog post, a poignant story, a film made by an acquaintance, the knowledge that people I know are at the top of their game, any of this can send me spiraling into the throes of depression. My deep and abiding sense of inadequacy and worthlessness spring into action, immobilizing me till all I can feel is the roiling sensation of bile rising in me. How is it that another person's life can do this to mine? Must I reconcile to this? Or is there any way of leaving it behind?

I no longer stay out late at night, drinking hard and living it up. I want to. So much sometimes. But I am a mother and my son will wake up early in the morning and a pounding head doesn't make for a cheery good morning. So I must reconcile. That part of my life is over.

I went from being a daughter to a wife to a mother. I never waited long enough to be me. The me I had envisioned as a teenager, living on my own, traveling the world, being an ace filmmaker or star chef. And now that time has gone. I will never get it back, no matter how my heart aches at the thought of it. I must reconcile.

I will never be head-turning beautiful no matter what is inside. Reconcile.

I may never become famous or be known for my skills. Reconcile.

I may never be the person who can engage in intellectual conversations on everything under the sun. Reconcile.

I am at war with myself. Constantly. I must let go. I must let the good energy flow through me. And for that I must reconcile. I must accept myself. But that is so, so hard to do.

But I am me. I love people deeply and stand by them. I give more of myself than I ask back. I am trying earnestly to be better at everything I do. And I will find my bliss someday I know.