One of the many lessons I’ve learnt in the past couple of years since having changed platforms for blogging and colleges is that within these moments, I’ve had sheer clarity about what I want for my life. This has seen me stop what I am doing at the time, grab a pen and piece of paper and write down anything and everything coming to mind.
There has been times were I’ve been furiously writing that my hand has cramped, my eyes were crossed eyed at some point and I had black ink smudged alongside my left hand. It has also seen me sob uncontrollably as I type my thoughts, expressions and emotions into words. As a part of me shrivels and dies with each black and white letter penetrating the screen because there is some emotional depth to what I am writing before collapsing into a deep sleep.
I write this sitting at the dining room table, in the sunroom which is the warmest part of The Little White House with my hair plaited into messy styled Dutch braids and an empty mug with the residue of coffee rimming the edges, wearing my favourite pair of slouchy pyjama’s I’ve owned for quite some time.
Once bright with stars imprinted on the fleece like fabric and now resembling a dulled pink after one too many washes, I found them a couple of weeks ago in a box marked ‘Scarlett’s Bedroom’. I was originally digging around in the shed looking for a pair of heels when this box called out to me and when shifting through some old shirts that I can’t part with, just yet, I came across my once favourite pyjamas. Not thinking too much about me finding them until recently. When I was told a premonition of the future, I didn’t find it strange that I found them at a time where I needed comfort and soul searching warmth.
Whilst holding them up to the light and breathing in the musty smell of having been cooped up for so long, a part of me wondered if they would hold the same question I had asked so long ago. Having decided to turn chicken and not find out, I placed them in the wash with a sprinkle of laundry detergent and later that evening I discovered when pulling up my pyjamas over freshly washed legs, that the only thing lingering amongst the woven threads was warmth.
The warmth of the fleece provided not only a sense of comfort from the bitter winter winds but also shelter as I started analysing what has happened over the past couple of days. Whilst I should be celebrating with joy that I passed my final exam for Pharmacology 2.0, even though I quite didn’t get the 7/HD I had hoped for, my brain can’t seem to shake its self from the small amount of horror, fear and curiosity of what is about to come.
Although I know there was always a small chance of this happening since Queensland is such a small state of only 3.2 million people, there is a small part of me that is fearful. I believe I’m not fearful of the outcome or the questions that shall be directed as to why I made the decision in the first place. Rather, I’m more afraid of emotions and feelings I’ve bottled down for a while and not to mention, the big “WHAT IF?” question is released.
As much as I’ve written about heart melting love, finding a mail order Husband who doesn’t speak Russian or is known as Ivan (for that’d be a little awkward) and being stuck in transit, the one question that no doubt plagues the back of my mind is: What If He was the one?
When voicing that question out loud, I’m reminded as to the reason why we did what we did and what I did in the end. If He had been the one than why did I chose to be the braver one, knowing my action would destroy His heart while allowing for mine to be slowly pieced back together while packing and writing something that neither denied nor claimed as to what had happened behind closed doors.
Having spent the past couple of days thinking about this and coming to the conclusion of what strength it took, it has been initially the best outcome for both of us. I’ve gone on to live a much happier life filled with boundless opportunities that have taken me across Queensland, a career that has inspired me to become a better nurse and a woman who is no longer fearful of her shadow and telling a lover, “You aren’t doing the job, move!”
Yes there are times where I find myself pondering what if our life had turned out the right way, the children that could have been made from love and brought up in a stable household. Before the thought becomes to unbearable and I find myself wondering if He’s happy with the life He now leads and that His partner is equally happy as well.
The ‘What If’ question brings me to my final thought of what it takes to be a person’s soul mate. To me, Soul Mate isn’t two little words with one big concept. Instead it houses a series of emotional links that bind you from body, heart and soul and it can only be severed through death. No matter what, why or how you go about finding your soul mate while experiencing the many ‘what if’ moments, the memories that are interwoven with each thing, memory or person represents who you are as a person and how you came about being this person.
So note to future self when reading back: It takes a shit load of courage to acknowledge this person and to stand there. Don’t feel obligated to apologise for what happened in the past because that’s what it is, the past. The steps taken have lead to the pathway you’re living so smile, listen to what’s being said and don’t get caught up in the fear of ‘this is really happening’. This is your opportunity to put all of those questions you’ve been wondering, saying out loud or quietly to rest. Besides if things hit the fan, there’s always Cake Vodka Cake, a warm hug and a 3 hour drive to Lady Blacksnot III.
As you once told someone recently, “He was the past and I am the past, present and the enticing future”.