I guess it’s only human nature to want an answer to the ‘why’ of it all. Curiosity and such.
It’s been playing over and over in my head, like a broken tape recorder — Why? And even though, more often than not, there’s a semblance of an explanation to that question, it never feels adequate.
When the rug gets pulled out from underneath me all too suddenly, I find myself spending every waking minute trying to rationalize why it happened (and how I missed the signs).
Often, I know deep down I don’t even want to know the answer to that question but perhaps a jarring response is more likely to help the healing process versus coming up with theories.
The answer I received to this ‘why’ just won’t sit right though. Why does something you so strongly believe in and know suddenly spiral out of control without even the slightest of warnings? Why do minutes, days, and months of the same commitment suddenly become something only you’re left wanting? Why do you suddenly have to re-ask questions you thought you already had answers to? Why did you leave?
There is no real answer to soothe the sheer inadequacy asking those questions evokes.
Someone told me that instead of focusing on rationalising the ‘why’, I should instead focus on the facts — what I know.
What do I know from everyday up until the point it all spiraled out of control? What do I know that didn’t actually work? What do I know that didn’t fill me with positivity? What do I know that filled me with happiness?
So I’m focusing on the facts. Everyday, day-after-day; it feels like a blackhole I’m never going to find my way out of.
Because the facts are throwing a whole bunch of stuff at me that I already know deep down, but my heart and my mind still don’t understand why I’m the one that’s left asking questions I thought we already had answers to.