The Paradox of Running from Problems While Running to Them

My blog page asked if I wanted help in writing this. AI is huge right now in that regard. I did use the help with the title, but I think that writing words about something so personal and important needs to be YOUR words, coming from your spirit, at the time YOU feel it.

I've had many challenges in my life as many of you who know me understand. Walking in these vines of thorny experiences has had many different dynamics depending on my age, my ownership, my self-esteem, and my ability to be receptive to owning the tools that I would need to manage so much. However, at the age of 56, THIS is a very important time.

When I turned 40, and I knew that my first marriage was not going to last, I had a very difficult time feeling like I was not worth anything. I was able to hide it so effectively with my eating disorder, working and gigging all the time, dating people I didn't want to date, and just running away from things that I didn't want to face, but running into things that would be a direct result of me not dealing with the very things I was running from.

That is why now is a very important time for me. I'm done running, but the running to is what really needs to change. This is something that has been an incredible challenge for me.

I ran from my childhood sexual abuse but ran toward men who objectified me sexually. I ran from my rape but ran to relationships where I was constantly blamed for its demise. I ran from people who were part of my "damage" but ran to people who continuously damaged me...and would continue to run to them in hopes that they would see the "real me."

This time is so important because this morning, I went through some stuff. I really did. I had to face some realities. The fact that my mom is going to die. The fact that the childhood sexual abuse happened and that some of the extended family members show me no love or support and blame me. The fact that some relationships are never going to be fixed and finding ways to accept it and move on. The fact that my self-esteem has suffered because I run from how I feel about myself, and run into situations that make me feel worse about who I am because it is all I've known.

I stood in front of the mirror and said to myself:

Rhonda, I am proud of you. Even with all the things I know you could have done better, I am so proud of you. You got up this morning and kept it moving. You haven't had a drink in 22 years. You got your degree and graduated Summa Cum Laude. You raised your son to be independent in thought and deed. You are helping young kids find their place in the world. You gave us a chance. You are beautiful and we will get through it all together.

None of this means that I don't feel pain for mistakes I've made. None of this means that I don't hold myself accountable. But it does mean that I am realizing my worth and that I do deserve better than what I've allowed. Not better than what has been done - but better than WHAT I HAVE ALLOWED. There are some things done that I can't change nor had power to avoid. However, there is control now in being able to say "yes" to things that I know are good for me, and "no" to things that are not.

I'm not running anymore. Even if I leave a space. I'm actually gingerly walking to positivity - to my counselors, to the things that help me with my PTSD, anxiety and depression, to the realities of my life so that I can properly manage them, to places that bring me joy (New York, I'll see you next week), to people where love and acceptance and truth exists, to healthy atmospheres where I can be myself. And what may be surprising to some people is all those places have people who hold me responsible for things that need to change and, to things I need to think about.

That's all I wanted to write today. It feels strange and weird what I feel right now, but oddly, it feels right.

And THAT is what I'm running to and no longer running from. Perhaps if I run to RIGHT enough, that will become my new normal.

And then I won't be running from anything anymore.