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Letting go.

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Jessica Dubeau

on 30 October 2013

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Transcript of Letting go.

Jess Dubeau Meeting Dr. Russner. Breaking up with my first boyfriend. Letting Go. The plain, white walls. Faint coffee stains on the carpet, probably spilt in an effort to calm down a crazy nut case like me. No windows, an old bookcase barely holding (personification) up itself against the chipped drywall. (symbol) A love seat placed randomly in the corner of that psychiatrist's office. She sits, hands crossed in her lap, legs crossed, staring at me from over top of those thick, black frames. A notebook and pen sitting beside her on the coffee table next to the stain, I nervously shift in my chair, nails digging into the fabric, waiting for her to ask what's been on my mind. Footsteps sound from out in the hallway. Someone is struggling, an addict maybe. For a moment she takes her eyes off of me, but then goes right back to writing down her notes, probably something bad about me. More footsteps, then silence. The only sound now is the faint scribbling of her pen. But then it runs out of ink, so it goes back to silence. I keep looking at that coffee stain, my grip on the couch relaxing, as I start telling her about why I'm here. "Forget it. You were never really there for me anyways. You don't care how I feel or what your words do to me. I need to find people who I can truly be myself around, someone who understands and likes me for me. I need to brush off my shoulders and pick myself back up, because you are the only thing holding me back. I have potential, and that is something I would never reach if I were to stay with you."
This is pretty much what I said to him before we broke up. We had this huge fight over a girl that was constantly texting him. Yeah, I was jealous, but you don't go behind your girlfriend's back and text other girls! That's just not right. The night of the breakup I stayed up crying all night. It was during the last week of Christmas break, and I just sat in my room listening to this song. The tears came rolling down my cheeks, hot with fury, dampening the sheets sprawled across my lap. Knowing he just wasn't "the one" and that I had made the right decision, I dried my eyes and let him go. I decided to move on. I'm getting better, though. Slowly, but I'm getting there. I guess it just gets some getting used to, being alone. “Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.” -Stephen King “No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.” -Haruki Murakami Coming to the United States. When I was six years old, my family I and packed up our apartment and moved to the United States. We were coming from Canada, after my mom left my dad, looking for a fresh start. My mom would be getting re-married soon, and my brother would just be starting high school. I remember running around the apartment, sticking little red tags with numbers on everything and putting what we had into big boxes. I'd never really heard of the United States, but I guess that shows how young and inexperienced I was. There's one thing I do remember, and that thing was really hard for me. Leaving my family behind, my friends from school, and most importantly my dad. Being the man he was, I knew he'd never come and visit us, mom even said so. But even though I was nervous, I helped pack the apartment up so we could start our new life in Michigan. The Last Present. "It'll be okay, sweetie. She's in a better place now". My Great Grandma just passed away, and I was taking it pretty hard. The pain was slowly killing me. (exaggeration) We never really got to see her, only on Christmas, and that's what I looked forward to most; getting one of her hand-made presents. Usually it's some kind of ornament that comes in a little bag, like an angel or a beaded star. But this time it came in a box. On top of the lid there was a note. "Dear Jess, I'm getting old, and I don't think I'm going to be around much longer. Know that I love you. I never got the chance to give this to you, but I've been holding onto it ever since I was a little girl, and I think it's time to pass it on to you." I slowly lift the box up, knowing this would be the very last present I'd ever receive from my Great Grandmother again. Bubble wrap lines the bottom, encasing a tiny ceramic angel and a certificate of authenticity. Taking a deep breath, I raise it up to show my mother. "Now Grandma can always watch over me," I smile. "It's sad, actually, because my anxiety keeps me from enjoying things as much as I should at this age." -Amanda Seyfried Something My Mother Used To Say. It started with a rumor. Someone spread around that I was a bad friend, that no one should ever trust me or hangout with me. I don't know why, but after a while, all the names people started calling me.. I started believing them. I started to think they were true. I later found out I was being bullied because I wasn't "christian". Because I dressed a certain way, because I listened to a certain type of music. ..how stupid is that? From then on, I promised myself never to believe anything like that again. I reminded myself over and over that what they did to me is hardly christian. That I was being the bigger person by walking away. I lost a lot of friends because of that. For no good reason. I didn't really do anything. They just targeted someone who was different. And that someone was me. ..but it made me a better person. I definitely found out who my true friends were. And it made me a better person. That's just part of learning to let go. That people will walk all over you, use you, make fun of you, etc. You just have to let go of those who don't deserve your friendship. Easier said than done, but it's true. My mom always used to tell me that no matter what, I'd never be alone. She would tell me never to settle for less, whether it's ordering something in a restaurant, or out in the dating world, trying to figure out the male population. She'd tell me that I deserved the best of everything. She always told me, with a voice as soft as butter, (simile) that I was a princess and deserved to always be treated as one. She'd look me right in the eye and say, "Jess, people will come and go in your life, but it's up to you how hard you fall for someone. Letting go can be hard, but in some scenarios it's the only choice you have. Enjoy your time with the people who truly care for you, and for those who walk out on you, that's their loss."
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