There's culpability in every exchange, especially the ones that go to shit. I was given the opportunity to look at myself through the harshest words I've ever heard; words that scorched my retinas with a wind-knocked out of me sucker punch that left me speechless.
At the time I didn't have any answers, it was unwarranted and unnecessary and it left me reeling. At the time, I was still trying to absorb the news that my sister's cancer had returned and it was inoperable. The timing of that exchange seemed cruel; certainly the words that were flung my way stung, perhaps even more so because of the timing.
Three months and a shit storm later, I now understand why.
Operating from shit, increases your ability to attract shit.
Inviting the wrong people into my life last fall, I bought into ideas that weren't my own and I surrendered my power without a fight. I trusted everyone but myself and I found myself ensconced in mean girl behavior. Laughing from inside that crappy, judgemental camaraderie, I felt superior. Even if I wasn't the one instigating, my proximity made me just as guilty, if not more so, because on the other side, (where I'd recently been), was awful. I conveniently forgot all of that in lieu of this new crew and I talked myself out of every good rational idea that sent warning signals along the way.
Since December, I've done a lot of soul searching and I've worked hard to work on the less than savory parts of myself that invited all kinds of ick into my life, (shit loads of it actually), last Fall.
Learning what I can do to redirect that energy the next time it comes my way. Because inevitably, it does, right? There's always going to be the icky parts; it's how you deal with them that can define you.
