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Day 189: f*ing friday :: flee

8 Jul

F*ing Fridays are back.

TGIF.
Today continues the weekly series, F*ing Fridays, which will coincidentally occur on Friday. I mentioned some of my favorite F words back on Day 5, including: Fearless, Fabulous, Fine, Fun, Faith, Freedom, Forgiveness, to name a Few.

At last publication I dove into the word Fiduciary.

Today’s F*ing Friday is dedicated to the word:
Flee.

As in, Elvis has left the building.

Okay, I’m not really talking about Elvis, I’m talking about me.

Three years ago on this day, I spent the last day in my home.  Three years ago today, I fled for good reason and never looked back.  It’s such a long story and you’ve probably already heard most of it by now.  I won’t bore you with dramatic details.

But I do want to share this: I never thought I was a quitter.
I abhor the concept of quitting.  In fact, it took a cancer diagnosis to pull me off the basketball court in high school.  And, in many ways, it took my life crumbling for me to leave my marriage.  To spice it up even more, six months later I was laid off from my job.

After this final blow, I sobbed to my father on the phone: “somebody, somewhere wants me to change my life.”

The thing is now, after suffering the consequences of quitting a few things, I prefer to look at it as moving on and evolving.  And here’s what I can report happened when I decided to (or was forced to) move:

People appeared in my life at the exact moment I needed them (I like to call them my Fairy Godmothers).  They showed up in droves with food, clothes, and support.  They put a roof over my head and hope in my heart.

I discovered (or rediscovered) parts of me that I didn’t know or didn’t listen to before.  I felt my own heart beat again.  I heard the sound of my voice in my head once more.

I met a good friend: “she” otherwise known as “me” was a stand-up gal and it was great to reconnect with her (we had so much in common!).

________ (fill in the blank) was never really as terrible as it felt in the exact moment it happened.

When my plans got all messed up, it turned out I just didn’t know there were better plans out there for me.

The toxic people in my life began to slowly drift away, leave and otherwise disappear.

I came to realize all the things I built around me, a marriage, house, job, career, image, walls, were just that:  built.  No matter what was torn down or how it ultimately fell, “it” could be built again, maybe even better next time ~ because I still had me.

I finally realized I am indeed, a quitter.
I know how to flee.  And it is a beautifully powerful muscle, the one that knows how to form the words – no more – plus, it can be good to exercise now and again.

I should have quit long ago.
The problem was I didn’t quite know how.  I should have quit caring so much about what others thought and should have quit pretending things were okay when they were not.

In the end, I did.
And I discovered this: there is no shame in quitting.

There is change.
There can be bumps.
There could be bears or bees or other monsters under your bed.

But more than anything else there is growth. 
And growth usually brings with it friends (or Fairy Godmothers) who are waiting at the end of your path to greet you when you reach the other side, hold up a mirror and show you a much stronger and more beautiful self.

And for that I wouldn’t change an f*ing thing.

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