Learning such an incredible journey

I had just finished a 30-minute, job-related mish-mash questionnaire of 50 hypothetical scenarios—the results of which were supposed to magically reveal what kind of a person I “reeeeally” was.
I answered honestly and felt pretty good about that. Then someone, who’d never met me before, came in, pulled the questionnaire, and left the room.
The door was ajar (people should be more careful about what they say when someone is listening).
A few minutes later, I overheard voices in the next room comment that I was “strong-willed”—based on which multiple-choice circle I had pencilled in.
I didn’t get the job.
I’ve never forgotten that interview and how it made me feel about myself. Someone made assumptions instead of getting to know who I really was.
Some of us also would do well to handle texting words with care and—after using angry thumbs to paint sentences of harsh, vindictive, rather hateful comments compiled when one’s heart is sore—take a moment before hitting “Send.”
I wish that someone would have taken a walk first; maybe a deep breath or three.
Isn’t it odd how some of us can text such beautiful phrases one minute, then spit out words born on razor blades the next.
Sadly, once that four-letter word “Send” is triggered, the writer cannot ever take it back. It taints the colour of every little good thing that was.
Life can be difficult to get right. Some of us—me for one, me for sure—didn’t get dealt the relationship cards I had hoped for.
And I have learned over time, and time again, that the greatest lesson of my bumpy little love lane is that there are two paths from which to choose: the one I “should” take and the one I want to take.
Because of the two paths, I’ve pretty much seen it all.
I have been belittled and punched by a man, long since gone from my sight once I learned to stand up. I have weathered the hindsight after a man I loved a very long time left for work overseas and willingly chose never to come back.
And I know what life looked like in the face of my most beloved—the one I deserved—whose suicide imploded everything.
I have learned through yet another what giving unconditional love feels like, even when it was a dead end—still know what it feels like—and it will never change.
I also know through another what might have been and what was, sadly, are two very different things.
I’m nowhere near perfect—and I don’t want to be. I make mistakes all the time, but I am considerate and I try to be respectful of other people’s attitudes in the wake of my own very tough decisions on what I need to do for me.
I spend a lot of time learning and relearning what it means to let go of control over someone else’s choices and to listen to my intuition. It always is right.
Sometimes I’m just naïve. Sometimes I try too hard to keep the bridges behind me passable and sometimes I get my eyes pried open.
Again, I say, there are two paths from which to choose: the one you “should” take and the one you want to take.
Do not doubt me. Take the second. Always take the second.

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