Tragic No More

TardisOkay then. So, I’ve finished 99.9% of the move to my last place before the drive west. Sorting of the last bits and bobs for the wee shipment to Vancouver is inches from completion. I will try to send a couple more boxes abroad but that shipment is a maybe and will be determined a go, or no, by the cost. Must say, as I tick of items on my to-do list, I am filled with almost equal amounts of elation and dread. After all these years of wishing and hoping you might well ask, why the dread? I’ll explain.

It’s got a lot to do with my identity as “tragic heroine”. I KNOW, eh? Never ever did I see myself that way, but I am – or rather was – and while the title role may have served me well once, I am SO over it! Let me elaborate briefly.

Patterns are great. Our brains receive information which it correlates so it becomes recognizable and reusable. If the result of an action based on a learned pattern bears fruit, it embeds the pattern and, well, of course we repeat it. It’s pleasurable, yeah? The crux is that we cannot always differentiate between healthy versus destructive patterns because they are often formed by trial and error, not to mention, impulse. And if a pattern continues to bring about a desired result, what do we care if, at its core, it isn’t the healthiest?

Well, we should care. We know that. We should care because strong healthy patterns are the stuff of legends. And we all want to be “that girl”. I, for example, want to be Rose Tyler. She was young when she jumped aboard the Tardis, but her extraordinary courage and self-knowing were born of healthy patterns woven deep into her personality. When she left her mom and boyfriend, it was so she could step out of others’ patterns to take the world by storm, in spite of her youth.

And I want to do that – even now when there’s no youth to fall back on. I’m terrified but more afraid of living ifs and buts and regrets for one more day. And while there’s no Doctor Who to accompany me, or the Tardis to journey in, I’m good company and I’ve got my faithful MBTwo. Let the journey begin!

Okay, that was a bit over the top and, yes, I’ve strayed so back to the purpose of this discourse which, is to explain that I’ve recognized how I am holding on to the pattern defined as “tragic heroine”. While familiar, well-oiled, and effective, it’s a crutch. I can walk just fine without it, but am so used to leaning on it, using it the excuse for NOT doing stuff, that I’m scared to death to pitch it. I wonder who I’ll be if I actually DO something. You see, I can talk about lots of stuff, but I’ve not a great track record when it comes to follow through. That written, I am slowly, surely, altering the pattern and sort of staring it down by behaving differently. Recognition of the behaviour is where it starts. Recriminations are ceasing, the doubt is less, and inspiration bubbles up encouraging me to keep going. And, I am.

My wish is for the gift of self-awareness and the grace that comes with it. Enough said. I’ll let Doctor Who close off tonight.

“Some people live more in 20 years than others do in 80. It’s not the time that matters, it’s the person.”

— The Doctor, Season 3, Episode 6

Until tomorrow…


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