Breaking To Become: Letting Go Of What I Hold On To

By Dolly Mahtani

I seek the wreckage somehow.
I have a masochistic streak.
If self-sabotage were considered an employable skill, I’d be a rich consultant by now.
I can tell you over 173 ways off the top of my head on how to break yourself.

Hurt someone that loves you,
disappoint your mother,
don’t do what you promised.
Leave a friend stranded.

Imagine 10 different ways someone you’re upset with could die (I don’t believe in hate).
Refuse to walk the dog. It’s not even yours.
Lie to your boss. Lie to your friends. Lie to yourself.
Don’t prepare the wedding speech. It’s not like she loves him.
Get drunk instead and pass out on the dance floor. Tell her that he’s cheating.
Eat yourself to death.
Vegetate on a bed watching Netflix.
Don’t paint your walls. Don’t dare to dream. Fit in. Comply. Agree, don’t deny.

Yes, I am guilty of some of these things.
Others are just things I should’ve done.
The things I maybe wanted to do at some point but I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I wasn’t raised that way. I was raised to swallow things no matter what.
I always tried to do what was right. I’d always sacrifice.
I dug a hole so deep that six feet under felt like a relief.
I’ve died in life so many times.
Over and over and over again.
There goes another piece of me.
Sometimes I get the privilege of mourning it.

Now this is my path. My habit. My religion. My routine. 

Oh god, it’s so scary.

I have no idea who I am going to wake up to be.
When I sleep, the confusion sets in.

I lose consciousness of who I am.

Who am I really?

I wish I could go back to being ignorant sometimes.
It’s hard. It’s so hard to stay awake.
To deliberately allow the break just to get to the depths of you.
To discover truth.
I seek transformation. I seek peace. I seek love. I seek unity.
I’ve walked down many paths only to learn they have always been within.
But the ego wouldn’t let me see.
It needed me to search externally.

Who am I really? 

Every day I discover something new.
I am never the person I think I am.
I’m a good person,
a brave woman,
a great friend.

At the same time, I am none of these.
Not really.
5 years ago, if you asked me who I really was, I’d laugh at the person I’ve become.
I’d laugh so damn hard.
I’m the one that quits her job to spend all day in bed with her girl.
The hopeless romantic.
The one who sees signs in everything.
The one who can’t stand routine.
Not even a little bit.

Every day she brushes her teeth differently just to prove it.
The one who is broken by the sorrow of others and brought to tears by their joy.
The one who scoffs at religion, bhakti, and sacred positions.
The one that wants to be liked by all but loved by one.
The one that needs no one else to entertain herself.
That lives in awe.

Every breath, every person, every pixel, every photon is a miracle.

The one that sees the invisible web that connects us all.
The one that avoids the sorrow because it is so familiar.
The girl that seeks color.
That falls for the wild heart.
Where to go from here?

I’ve let go of everything I know.

I’m falling.
Heart sinking.
Body floating.
Just resting on the trust of friends.
The good wishes of strangers.

Letting go is what I hold on to.
Breaking must be just another word for rising.

For more self-study, The Urban Howl recommends The Mastery of Love: A Practical Guide to the Art of Relationship: A Toltec Wisdom Book.

Read more:
Victim To Strength — Get Out Of Toxic Fumes & Into The Truth Of Who You Are


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