Is there such a thing as that one perfect soul mate? Our soul mates are those people we teach and who teach us … and once we are done, we move on. Or we try.
We spend so much time and energy finding ‘the one’ – that perfect soul mate to complete us in some way – but do we ever stop to wonder if perhaps we are already complete. Perhaps there is no ‘one’ besides ourselves. Perhaps we make ourselves less complete in order to keep ‘the one’ and fit the mould.
Why do we cling to the stuff that is bad for us and why can’t we leave behind the things that are over? We brood and we analyse when perhaps we should just move forward. I have tried recently, against the odds, to cling to the past, unable to release the hold that the notion of my perfect soul mate has had on me, when that part of my journey is complete. Perhaps there is another soul mate out there for me or perhaps not. Perhaps I have to seek solace in my own soul … at least for now. I need to realise that I am the compete person I was born as and I don’t need to rely on an ‘other’ to make me feel that way.
When you get embroiled in the love triangle that comes with having a child, you change. You can resist it, you can deny it, but it’s there. You just change. For me that change brought growth. And that growth brought courage. And that courage brought inner strength. And that inner strength brought self-confidence. And that self-confidence brought self-love. And before I knew it, I became complete. I no longer fit the mould and there’s nothing I can do but walk away.
Perhaps I will have regrets. I’m sure I will. But those too will bring more growth.
Posts Tagged ‘courage’
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps …
Tuesday, April 13th, 2010It’s about being part of something rather than being in it to win
Tuesday, November 10th, 2009Every time I am doing well at something, I tend to sabotage my success … but that’s not really a bhalababy post, it’s a therapy session.
I run. I am a runner. And I don’t win. I don’t win because I don’t need to win. And I run because I can be happy with my result, regardless. As it is in life, sometimes it’s just about participating. And, besides, every race can be a personal ‘win’ because I do a great time, I get the t-shirt and the medal … and then there are those endorphins which are as good as those during childbirth but without the intense pain. Sometimes.
I ran the Cape Grape Run … a tough 21.1km off-road race with Klein Constantia wine tasting at the top of the 8km climb … last Sunday. I was fit, I was strong, I had sorted out all my issues with shin splints, I had had a bowl of complex carbs, a cup of regular tea (after eight months without caffeine), my vitamins … I’d done my prep and I was so ready to thrash my PB (personal best). I destroyed the uphill, joked with fellow runners, left Steve and Gav in the dust and belted downhill while chatting to a veteran of long distance. It was kilometer 12 and I hadn’t even broken a sweat. I was set to tear past at least another hundred runners before the finish … Chariots of Fire was being whistled by the trees.
The crack sounded like a gun shot as my foot bent at an unnatural angle on making contact with a pile of lose rocks … and I watched as runners I had passed kilometers back started streaming past me. I already knew I wasn’t going to win this thing and now I knew I wasn’t even going to do a PB … but I ran on (with what I know now to be somewhere between a grade 2 and grade 3 sprain – the worst I could have done) so I could just finish the race. I knocked a few minutes off last year’s time and, best of all, I crossed the line seconds before Steve and Gav … after which I couldn’t even stand on the injured foot.
All the while, my husband and child were running the 5km fun run, a race my husband was planning to push our son in the jogging pram in order to complete the circuit. Turns out, my husband pushed and our son ran … all 5km in 42 minutes!
I didn’t get much sympathy for my alleged self-sabotage but I proved I could finish anything I start as long as my heart is in it … that goes a long way in proving the stamina required to be a parent.
