The light at the end of the tunnel

Written by on April 17, 2014 in Learning to Breathe - 4 Comments

It’s amazing how from the hardest lessons come the most powerful triumphs.

Some months back I discovered, through the deceit of some negative characters that came into my life, just how naive and gullible I could still be. This month, in contrast, I discovered my strength to carry forward, my creativity in venting my frustration, and my capacity to work towards a lifelong goal to surpass even my own expectations.

I’ve always thought of myself as a fairly intelligent woman that wouldn’t  easily be lied to or taken advantage of. Yes I believe in the good in most people, and yes I do like to think that most people actually want to be good people in their true nature. Even with this belief, however, I do maintain some level of wariness when allowing for my trust in others. I also depend greatly on my normally good judgement of someone’s character. I am generally not naive or easily taken advantage of in this belief. I am wary of people’s words, unless those words are connected with reflecting actions, and I don’t give my heart or trust easily.

But I suppose that sometimes even the people that consider themselves to be good judges of character occasionally get weak and allow their wall to crumple a bit when faced with a gifted enough adversary. Let’s be honest, when it comes to someone who regularly engages in fooling people as a hobby, most of us who consider ourselves to be honest people are out of our league.

Several months back was truly a bad month. It began with me falling badly in a way that I thought it would never be possible to make me fall for someone who, luckily, I never completely gave in to, and who I soon after learned was simply a master of deception. I still wonder at how my head and my heart were left so unprotected for a time that I was so easily fooled. Later in the month not only did I start to realize that my heart had been deceived, but that my head, my ability to tell a good story from a phony tale, and my judgement in spotting a phony had also been severely compromised.

Some people say that bad things come in threes. And I have seen some truth to this theory. That month the disappointments came at me not once, not twice, but three times: affecting my heart with one and my wallet with another. Three good hits in fact. I can’t say that I took it well either. I can’t remember the last time that I felt so torn down and almost destroyed. Let’s say that it took me much more than just three days to recover. For a while, it was an effort just to stop my tears from falling. The thing is too that I don’t like others to see my weakness, so even writing this and sharing it with anyone who might stumble upon my blog is not easy. But writing has always been my main solace, my primary retreat, so I sunk into the only outlet that I had left. I couldn’t speak to even my closest friends or my family about what I was going through.

How could I really when in the end it seemed that I’d been so easily deceived just because I wanted to so badly to believe. In the end, I’d been my own undoing and only I was to blame for being so easily undone. The players who seemed like the guilty parties were only guilty in playing the games that they always played. They were such masters of their own deceit that they probably even believed the stories that they spun.

When faced with something so difficult, it’s easy to see ourselves as a victim and it’s easy to give in to the feeling of being victimized. What takes real ability, real strength, is to take the lesson from the terrible situation and to embed it inside ourselves and use it to make us better, stronger, more whole, and more powerful in ourselves.

As I said, my outlet has always been writing. My weakness with writing, however, and why I never considered it as anything more than a hobby, has always been my complete inability to finish anything. Well there is a silver lining in this story, which is the reason why I’m writing it. I’ve always secretly wanted to be a writer. I’ve started more than ten books up to now, maybe even twenty, but I’ve never finished any of them. That is, I’ve never finished any of them until now.

The nice thing about being terribly hurt is that it drives imagination. Most of the best artists take inspiration from difficulty and from unhappiness. And so with me being wounded morally came to inspire me. I finished writing an entire book in just a few months (leaving now just the editing and final shaping of the book to be done). In fact, what began as a book has now developed into a series of books and I am already part of the way through writing the skeleton of the entire storyline for the series . The person who hurt me most, probably without even realizing just how easily I could be scarred (hell even I didn’t realize) was the original inspiration for a key character that shapes the story of the heroine of the first book. So rather than be disappointed, I will be grateful. The desire to express myself somehow is what drove me to keep writing, and the need to pour the story out of me through an imaginative set of events is what kept me going forcing me forward and convincing me to finish.

In truth, I wanted so badly to see the story in print that I would not give up. It’s nowhere close to ready yet really. It still needs to be heavily edited of course, and then the difficulty of trying to publish will set in. But it’s a start and it’s the closest I’ve been in a very long time, if ever. I’m not a victim. I’m a person who’s learned a difficult lesson but who managed to triumph in the face of difficulty. A friend of mine who heard a small bit of the story (only the part where I was also scammed for money), said very wisely: “Consider yourself lucky. You paid that same amount of money to take a language class that you eventually dropped because you didn’t feel that you were learning anything. Now you lost that money but you gained a lesson that is priceless and you will never make the same mistake again.” He is a very wise friend indeed.

Everyday we make a choice of how we want to live our lives. Everyday we choose to believe or to doubt; everyday we choose to smile or to scowl. Everyday we choose whether we want to see the good in people or to see what will eventually hurt or disappoint us. And everyday we choose whether to open up our heart to love or whether to leave it closed behind a desolate prison. Do you know: I was fooled and I was deceived; but I would not have done any of it differently. I refuse to hide my heart from people who may try and take advantage of it, because somewhere sometime there will be the one who finds it and savors it and adores it — and I wouldn’t want to be hiding when I meet him.

Living, feeling, believing, and hoping: these are the biggest gifts that life has given us. Why would I squander those gifts by keeping myself hidden? Why would I sacrifice the beauty that life holds for me because it may occasionally be tarnished with ugliness? Everyone who knows me knows that my biggest power, my essence really, is my joie de vivre: my passion for life and my hunger for every moment of living. I’ve always felt that time is too short, and I’ve always refused to waste it. I want to feel everything, I want to breathe in every essence of life, I want to make love like I mean it. Life is too short to live otherwise.

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