Let it go

​There’s an ex of mine I run into all the time. It’s not intentional on my part. He keeps showing up with his friends to the very location he KNOWS I will be. (Cue dramatic eye roll.)

Half the time however, I don’t realize he is there. At least until I detect someone flailing about dramatically out of the corner of my eye. (To catch my attention?) 

Or, as I am going about my usual routine, talking with people in this place, I see him because he always sits in the same spot - near my peeps. And then I notice him, for a moment, before getting distracted by the fact that I am busy, having fun, and I forget once again that he is there until…he does something extravagantly ridiculous once more, and he blips onto my radar for half a second. 

​It bothers him that I don’t pay much attention. I know because he sends drunk texts (which I don’t respond to) asking “what’s my deal?” Or saying meaningless phrases like “You’re the one who messed things up, just saying” …because he genuinely believes I ruined the great love we (never) had when I refused to give him a ANOTHER chance. 

Likewise he is convinced that my declining to lend him money - when he came up with some cock n bull con artist kind of story about losing tons of cash he never should have had with him in the first place on his weekend away - was me withholding love and affection. 

It really BOTHERS him that he is not welcome into my life anymore…It’s as though I should be some type of doormat and let him wipe his shoes on me and enter my life anytime he sees fit. But the last I checked, my heart is not a place of public accommodation, and I don’t have to give access out to those who intend to muck it up with lies and deceit and lack of integrity. 

It’s kind of funny in a way because I’m not trying to ignore him. Aside from not desiring to be around his type of energy, I really don’t wish him any ill will. I just find it hard to understand that he expects me to accept the lies he tells. Imagine being handed a single dollar bill, but having someone INSIST it is a $100 bill. And then they, get mad at you, when you show them that it is a indeed a single dollar. It’s bizarre, but also disturbing and sad to see someone act this way. At least when I remember he is there. Which much of the time, I do not. 

The other night, however, I had this analogy pop into my head. I had just returned home from running into him. Again. Sigh… And I realized that people like him are similar to those big metallic special occasion balloons with the fancy string. They seem cool at first and even a bit fun. Beautiful colors, and all floaty vibes. You feel special to get one because it’s new and a bit different. I mean how often do you get a balloon anymore?*

But the novelty quickly wears off as the material never maintains its shape for very long. And when it (nearly immediately) starts to deflate, the metallic finish dulls as well. The clarity of the word or image also diminishes as the air leaks. Such a (superficially) attractive object metamorphosis into an almost caricature of itself. The curly twine drags on the floor - getting dirty or caught up in stuff. The whole entity loses it’s luster. 

For some reason, though, you prefer to keep it around rather than discard it. You want to recapture that feeling of “I am special” when you look at it. After all, you do nostalgically remember responding with excitement that first time you welcomed it into your world. But it looks sad now, and you never quite return to the height of emotion you experienced when you first received it.

These days, it is always IN THE WAY as it aimlessly flitters around your place. Perhaps you even trip over the string, or get annoyed as it sinks lower and lower. It is OBSTRUCTING your flow at the worst moments. Such as when you are in a hurry, or looking for something important, and you have to move it OUT OF THE WAY. And yet it keeps. Drifting. Back. OMG

Soon a mere glimpse of it, leaves you annoyed. Like won’t that damn nuisance ever completely deflate? And you secretly hope that when you come home each day, you find it on the floor so you can FINALLY get it out of your space. 

Somehow as it hangs on - dusty, lingering lifelessly around - it strikes you as looming bigger and bigger. But that’s not possible is it? Shouldn’t that blasted balloon appear smaller and less consequential? And why, better yet HOW, did you ever come to believe it was so desirable? 

Perhaps the world IS secretly conspiring AGAINST you to keep this annoying object in your life. And oh wow, you notice that its metal finish is fading in weird disturbing ways. You can barely stand to look upon it’s distorted appearance. Plus the smell of the stale noxious gas leaking out from it’s insides is making you sick. Your mood dips each time it malingers in your general direction. Depression sets in.

But still you persist in holding on to the irritating item because it was SPECIAL when you let it into your life. It meant SOMETHING. And although you could have simply thrown it away, you are not ready to LET IT GO because that might mean you are NO LONGER SPECIAL and what if you never feel that way again?

Ahhhh…there’s the truth of it. 

YOU are not ready to LET IT GO. The problem isn’t the balloon (or the boy - remember him of many chances from the beginning?) lacking in luster. It’s YOU wanting, needing, someone else to say “You are special. You matter.” And so you would rather chain yourself to a worthless, toxic, piece of something, then face the possibility of never being made to feel that way again.

A false admiration is better than none at all…right?

But one day you come home, and you see that balloon moping around. Mocking you by taking up space, acquiring dust, reminding you of how little value it adds to your world, and how much WORK it creates FOR you to continue to have it. 

And perhaps you suddenly understand that this balloon was a last minute gift because the giver forgot, or didn’t know you well, or simply didn’t want to take the time to invest in you by thinking of your value to their life. It hurts to know that they are so clueless that they never considered that a handwritten note on a postcard about what you meant to them would have been priceless in comparison. 

You were blinded by something shiny, lacking in substance, and whose value reflected how little the giver thought of you.

Your eyes open, seeing clearly, you ask yourself “WHY is this still here?”

So you do what needs to be done with an almost joyful laugh - the only moment of true pleasure you’ve had since receiving the damn thing into your life - you pop the balloon and take it out to the trash. 

Letting go never felt so good, so the only question which remains is…
Why didn’t you do this sooner?

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To anyone going thru something similar - whether with a boy or a ballon …my advice is this …

DTMFA

Because you don’t need that dusty energy leaking it’s toxicity into your life.

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​*Note: No discrimination was intended towards balloons. I’ve received them with pleasure before. I actually like them. Sometimes. In the right circumstances. Like if I am channeling my inner Audrey Hepburn from Funny Girl. So if you are one of the people who ever gave me one with good intentions, know that I love you dearly. Xoxo, Tink

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