So, I had a bit of a lost weekend. It was the best kind of lost weekend, however, one spent with really amazing and supportive friends. Since I’m still dealing with Hurricane Lupo’s aftermath, I did right by getting out again and hanging with people who not only love me for who I am but are quick to call me on my shit. Those are the best of friends: The ones who will stand by you when you’re behaving badly but will let you know that you need to learn from your mistakes. Starting with my amazing daughter through the Eagle ceremony followed by my weekend drinking pals finishing up with my beautiful Becca, I found myself transitioning from that all-smothering pain to a point where the fog starts to clear and vague outlines reappear.
What those outlines morphed into were a bit surprising. My daughter rallied to my defense in only the way she can (i.e. with impenetrable logic… she gets that from her father, and I hate fighting with either of them because it always ends in defeat and frustration on my part). My drinking pals wanted both to cheer me up, get me to look beyond my heartbreak and to think more positively (all that “laws of attraction” stuff… I get it, truly, but I do not believe I’m sending out negative energy; I’m just building a bomb shelter, just in case). Finally, one of my very best friends, Becca, took me out for four hours of Bloody Mary’s and Blood Orange Mimosas, which was not the high point of our visit. While we don’t get together nearly as often as we should, I always feel reinvigorated after spending a few hours with Becca. The time literally flies; we look up and cannot believe how late it’s gotten.
After relaying to her all the crap that has happened the past week and how unprepared I was for more heartbreak (I really thought I’d gotten smarter about it), I mentioned to Becca that, “I’m just really good at failure.” To which she retorted, “No, actually, you suck at failure.” She pointed out that I am never satisfied when something goes wrong, that I may become suicidal or destitute but that’s because I really hate failing. I had to think about that for a bit, but I think she’s on to something. I want the good life; I know what I’m looking for and when I fail to find it, I’m miserable because I know I have to keep on looking. Every time I think I’ve got it right and I don’t, I know what energy it took for me and how hard it will be to summon it again. But I know I will have to, because I suck at failure.
I feel rotten when I cannot control my feelings, when I lash out and behave badly. I know I should behave better, but when I’m hurting and when I’ve failed at something that was very important to me, I really am no good at lying there and taking it. Finally putting a rationale to that “bad behavior” is—I hope—a step away from those negative forces that seem to keep finding me: I need to stop sucking at failure and start succeeding at success.