Only The Real Thing

I am on a mission. This is no bargain hunt, either. Cheap imitations will not be accepted. Nor last resorts. Nor second-hand goods. It must be 100% authentic, for this is far too critical to settle for less. I am not out to find the best that has ever been. That would be an impossible quest. I am merely out to discover, and then implement, my best -- flawed and imperfect as it is. Regardless of quality, it must be genuine. It must be true.

I know that the path to self is a continuous one, forever winding and twisting until the moment of our final breath. However, I have recently covered a lot of distance in quite a short time and am closer than ever to me. The trail is hot with many clues and I can not afford to let it go cold.

Clearly, I am no longer the young girl who walked down the aisle over a decade ago. As I emerge from naive to painfully aware and self-confident, realizing my potential has become an important quest. One that I am not content with allowing anyone else, including societal roles, defining for me.

Unfortunately, I am currently suffering circumstances which impede my progress rendering my mission impossible. For where I presently reside there is too much stress and chaos to accomplish the task at hand—with so many distractions and influences bearing down on me right and left, I am unable to think clearly about the future. Informed and confident decisions are rarely made in the heat of battle; for that is when survival mode takes over. It is a shoot first, ask questions later mentality when you are in so deep that you can actually hear the bullets whizzing by your head. You don't know whether to duck, jump or dart because there is no time to think or analyze your next move. In survival mode, you are forced to act immediately and rather than strive for the best outcome, you simply hope to make it out alive.

In order to effectively strategize you must step off the battlefield, although mine is not inundated with loads of mass destruction, but rather an insidious form of warfare. Like many types of poisonous gas you can not detect it, yet you notice your health declining as the toxins slowly eat away at your vitality. You eventually become weak, exhausted and apathetic to the cause; even dangerously indifferent to your own survival.

It is additionally disheartening when it is one of your own delivering the poison which is slowly killing you. Even if they did not consciously intend you harm, it is their incessant carelessness and disregard for your well-being that has made it difficult for you to breathe. Ironically, and possibly the cruelest of all, while their actions were destroying your inner core they were simultaneously portraying themselves the victim. What audacity to blame you for your ailing spirit when it was they who supplied the source of your pain! As much as you would like to forgive, it is hard to accept apologies when they continue to demonstrate, and seemingly always will, this same reckless abandon to your health and vitality.

It is therefore difficult for me to see the bigger picture and accomplish my mission while among those same toxic fumes that clouded my vision and deteriorated my livelihood. I desperately need some fresh air so that I may gain a fresh perspective. For this reason, I am organizing a reprieve that will get me out of the war zone and afford me the opportunity to think--not just react. I do not want to get further down my path to look back and have regrets as a result of strategizing in survival mode. I want to not only survive, but to come out with a renewed zest for life. I want to not only be comfortable, but happy and proud to wear the skin I am in.

I plan to return energized and ready to make a fresh start, regardless of what that may be.