There are those moments in time when I just want to fade away. I can’t understand why. They are overwhelming, sad and feel like greasy sticky crap all over me. It’s like a dark sludge which I can’t seem to shake. They are memories, prompting me to wonder what might have been, not knowing why things turned out the way they did. It’s all the same thing, but the many moving parts feel so different to create mass confusion within my heart and mind. I just want it to go away.
Not everything has an answer we can understand, but more often the fact is we aren’t meant to understand it. These are opportunities for growth.
There’s a certain wisdom to not knowing why things didn’t turn out the way we wanted them to. Often, we demand to know the answer to things which we are either ill equipped to handle, or simply aren’t supposed to know.
“Why didn’t she love me?”
“How come he got the job and I didn’t?”
“Who decided to make her boss?”
“Why did he have to die?”
All these are questions to which we rarely ever get the answers, unless the answer solves a great deal of pain and suffering. More often than not, it actually leads to more of it. Not everything has an answer we can understand, but more often the fact is we aren’t meant to understand it. These are opportunities for growth.
My own life has been a litany of such processes these last few years, ranging from the need to end friendships gone toxic to saying goodbye to my father, to accepting that the life I wished for would never become reality because I was meant for something far different. No matter what the pain, it is an opportunity to understand ourselves better and to grow. The problem is, the pain is often overwhelming because we’ve allowed it to fester and turn into a festering wound upon our souls and hearts, one which often only healed through artistic and creative outlets or, for those of us not so creatively inclined, intense physical activity. Still, these problems often are repeated when we don’t accept our triggers for what they are, and learn how to integrate them into who we are. I’m not talking about the sort of “love yourself” mantra so many others espouse (valid as that mantra may be), but rather looking those triggers, those foibles square in the eyes and saying “I manage you, not the other way around. You will work for me, and no longer hold me back.”
I find myself being reminded of the story of a man who fell in love with a woman he once worked with. Though he held deep feeling for her, she spurned his advances and, ultimately, he fell out of contact with her. That pain spurred him to create a character in his work, one who would become the bane of his protagonist’s existence. Over time, she would come to be a de facto main character in this story of life, love and dealing with the minutia of the everyday. She would even have a nickname, which readers around the world would instantly recognize today. The rejection he suffered would cause this particular fellow to focus on his life’s work, and he would ultimately go on to be happily married, and transform his work into a multi-billion dollar empire with worldwide impact. His was a story of why not knowing is often a good thing, and why moving on is the best thing one can often do.
That woman became known as the Little Red-Haired Girl, the never-was-his paramour of Charles Schulz, creator of Peanuts.