Well, I’m sorry for vanishing off the face of the Earth for the best part of a month. It always seems to be the way with me so I’m not going to make any rash promises about increased blogging this time. If I can make my deadlines, I will.
This week, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to talk about letting go. You see, I’m very bad at it. Sometimes this tenacious streak in me has been an advantage, allowing me to stay up all night plugging away at a project when most people would have long since given up. Most of the time, though, it seems to set me up for falls. It has made me one of life’s worriers, for a start. If there’s a situation bringing me down, I find it hard to go somewhere else and switch off; when I go home at night, I’m still bothered about things going on at work. These days I do a very dull data entry job, so I only have to go to the office and do my bit. The stress and worry that the daily grind of such a dull job puts me under shouldn’t affect me much when I leave my desk for the day, yet here I am having sleepless nights and being referred to a psychiatrist by my doctor. Needless to say, I’m looking for a new job at the moment.
My inability to let go also means I get hurt a little more easily than some. I’ve had people start to drift away in my life and the fact that I still act on my affection for them and they don’t seem to reciprocate causes me heartache sometimes. If I could learn to accept the drift from present to past, perhaps I’d be happier for it. Yet I feel that the fact that I can’t let go of things is part of my drive; if I lost it then I’d lose the core of my determination and I’d never get anything done. This part of me makes me bounce back from my failures and have another go, whether or not the consequences will be twice as bad the next time round.
I suppose that where this becomes truly dangerous is my love life. There have been times when I should have let people out of my life (or, for that matter, pushed people out of my life) sooner but I’ve kept giving them further chances to stab me in the back or kick me while I’m down. If I wasn’t so determined to patch things up rather than letting a formerly good thing end, I would probably be better able to see the point at which somebody has become a liability to me. But, with all this in mind, the question becomes one of why, even though I obviously know this in principle, do I still try to keep such people close?
Answers on a postcard.