There’s been too much pressure…
Too much pressure to get it all right the first time, right out the gate, no failures or missteps permitted. Perfection, in a sense. Do it right. Stay right. Never stray from the lane. And yet I rebelled…like a rebel without a clue or just cause. [Though I had my own reasons and felt justified at the time, it really was just an early sign of our incompatibility and I would’ve been better off walking away instead.]
Then followed pressure to get back on the right road and to find redemption in the process. But forgiveness is tough to come by, particularly within oneself when you’ve let people you care about down and shattered their illusions of you and what could’ve possibly been.
Pressure to fix it, to make it right again, to restore faith that’s been lost. Pressure to become a better person without yet knowing where to start or even if the other person’s notion of “good” is truly fully compatible with one’s own personal strivings. Leads to conflict and cognitive dissonance, which then generates more pressure to figure it all out and soon.
Racing against a clock, against a perceived time limit, a cut-off point on the horizon where further attempts will surely prove pointless. Racing against a fading spark in the other’s eyes, that glimmer that gives one hope that there’s still time and a chance to build it back up and reignite the passion.
Pressure to find peace, to find happiness, to find a sufficient answer, to discover whatever the hell it takes to improve the situation.
Pressure to change, to find a new meaning and purpose that’s satisfying, to abandon the past and all of its painful memories that keep holding one back, to become someone new…
And all that pressure can send one in a loop, faster and faster, while getting nowhere.
The moral weight of past decisions can keep one locked in, resistant to letting go, determined to somehow make it right while all the built-up pressure ensures it is destined to self-destruct. Can’t breathe freely under that sort of burden, and it matters not in the end whether it was originally self-imposed.
Pressure to hold on, to not let go of the fight even after it’s clearly proven futile. To make amends. To prove one’s worth and value to the other. While doing it all wrong and further eroding what one has set out to restore. Seeing that, knowing that, and yet being unwilling to let it go and to walk away. Feeling that to do so is to admit defeat, to give up on something that felt important, on something that needed to be set right somehow. All the while strangling the very essence one’s attempting to pursue and protect.
The pressure proved to be too much, and I recognize it’s come from within myself mostly. My perceptions, my fears, my search for redemption, my struggle against selfish inclinations, my needs and wants, my expectations for myself and others, my remorse over wrongdoings, my love, my inability to lay it all down and back away. Where was he throughout all of this? Standing there, unable to understand (despite contributing to this turmoil), maintaining wishful thinking too until he finally relinquished it and left me to battle with my own self. And here I remain.