A Letter to Acceptance
This is a letter from my series in which I write to emotions that are present in my life.
I have a hard time accepting you. I hope you appreciate the irony in that statement.
It’s true though.
I think my reasons are valid.
Accepting often feels like I have to agree. Like I’m condoning the thing that I’m “accepting.” For example, I don’t want to accept that some of my family relationships are strained. I want them to be better.
Accepting feels like giving up. Like I’m going to stop trying and I’m agreeing to just leave things as they are. That it’s ok our relationships are messed up.
I actually said this to my friend and he pointed out that I can accept something without agreeing with it. I had not considered this possibility.
So, according to my friend, I can accept that my current family relationships are not ideal. They are what they are. AND, I don’t have to like it.
What a novel concept. What do you think about that? Are you ok with sitting in the presence of things that make you uncomfortable?
Seems like you have a pretty rough job. And yet, whenever people think of you they imagine you’re hanging out with Peace and Zen.
It’s not like they picture you hanging out with Frustration and Fury. Do you ever hang out with them though? Might be kind of nice to mix it up on occasion.
But I’m distracting myself with tangents. We’ll move on to my second reason that I have a hard time hanging out with you.
I don’t like unanswered, unresolved things. I like to have solutions. I like to understand. I like explanations.
Many, MANY times I do not have these things. My mind then kicks into overdrive to try and find them. Sometimes it does and it is sublime. Sometimes it doesn’t and it’s hellish. I want to keep working to find a solution.
Truthfully though, sometimes there just isn’t one readily available and it drives me mad.
My friend told me that’s when I need to invite you over. To accept that I don’t know for right now. To accept now is not the time.
I guess in saying that, you probably provide a lot of comfort and trust. And maybe even… rest.
Funny, this letter started out as a rant about you, but I guess I’ve convinced myself that I’d like to hang out with you more.
Thanks for listening. I trust you won’t be offended by rambling thoughts against you that turned into thoughts for you. I trust you can accept I’m flawed and ever-changing.
I accept I also have no control over how I make you feel. Ha.
Look at that. I’m ending with you.
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