hindsight

I’ve come to the realization that hindsight is my most simple and direct teacher. As the year rapidly approaches its end, I figured what better way to take stock of present day Amanda, than to look at where she was a year ago.

I’ve found myself returning to journal entries from last December, and as I circle back to this old version of myself I can’t help but notice the very similar obstacles I’m facing, but how differently I am choosing to meet them.

The most common thread that ties my past and present selves together is the relationship dynamic between myself and those I deeply care for. In the past, while my intention may have been to thread these two things together harmoniously, it more often than not felt like the needle I was using was solely set out to poke, irritate, and stab me, until I learned the lesson it was trying to teach me.

Most of these lessons have centered around knowing when my time - with a person, a love, a friend, a community - has run its course. When I gravitate towards something, it does not take much for me to be fully taken over by the pull. I have a wide open heart; I love to love, and I love to be loved. Old Amanda struggled with letting go because of this. She had to try everything - extend, bend, mold, shrink herself - to make sure every option at maintaining connection, honoring her commitment, had been utilized. The only thing that would convince her to let go was complete destruction. So painful. So exhausting.

As I sit here today, I’m absolutely certain there are countless more lessons to learn here, but I am proud of myself for learning that I can’t muscle my way through something that doesn’t want me to penetrate it. I can’t pour my love on something that is impermeable and expect it will become porous. Wishing, hoping, seeing the potential of something beautiful in a partner, a friend, or a community, is as foundational as sand in my hand.

My standard has risen. Access to me requires reciprocation, communication, honesty, compassion, and integrity. Anything less simply won’t do.

I think that’s called growth, and it feels really fucking good.