y'know, at 42, life's thrown me a fair share of curveballs and it's not like I brag about being perfect (who does??), but some things are just tough pills to swallow. i'm stuck on this self-charged guilt trip because, yeah, I cheated. big whoop, right? but the kicker is, didn't spill the beans. and let me guess, you're wondering how the hell does one forgive themselves for that mess? it's like trying to erase a permanent marker stain off a white shirt, i suppose. you don't. 😒

so there's this whole psychological warfare going on inside my head where i’m battling rational thoughts versus the human inclination to just hide under a rock. it's self-preservation at its rawest form. therapists or some self-proclaimed gurus might say honesty is the best policy and admitting mistakes is the path to redemption, but what do they really know about survival instinct? every day i juggle with the concept of being morally reprehensible vs. having sanity intact. do i crucify myself on the alter of mistakes and marinate in constant self-loathing or do i sweep it under the rug where it belongs? i mean, let’s be real, everyone has skeletons in their closet. so, why is it such a big deal for me? questioning if the act in itself was worth the eternal psychological gymnastics serves no purpose; hindsight's a friend to none! 🙄

they call it cognitive dissonance, right? this unsettling feeling of harboring conflicting beliefs and emotions, creating a mental ping pong game. i tell myself, "you’re only human, we all eff up!" and then that little voice chimes in, "yeah, but not like this." forgiveness isn’t a one-size-fits-all, it's a custom fitting... you have to try on a few versions before something feels right. is there really a right way to forgive oneself for unspoken sins? haven't we all, deep down in our shitty psyche, wanted to play pretend with the truth? but i digress, inside the tangled web of unrepentant emotions, i seek clarity that never arrives. intimacy post-cheating feels like a contractual formality; mechanical, void of warmth—like sex in slo-mo with all sound muted. maybe it's penance. maybe it's karmic justice in the disguise of normalcy.

what's likely worse than the act itself is the endless charade of maintaining a facade where guilt doesn’t mar the superficial peace. it’s this relentless pursuit of a sense of normalcy that cocoons the paranoia and eats you alive. if we dive into the world of behavior methodologies, we see that confronting the issue by making amends with oneself forms a baseline for 'emotional recalibration.' sound like BS?? well, it kinda is, but maybe, just a little piece of the truth lies there. despite the misalignment in actions and beliefs, i lift myself from the agony of regret because confronting my inner demons could mean clarity. 😳

and maybe, just maybe, entering that analytical landscape of reality, life has more gloomy twists than we reckon, and decisions are not always brewed in morality. so, what's a gal to do? keep counting forgiveness as a constant emotional reconciliation, a mere bunged-up attempt to self-soothe. or just like any ol' screw-up, find comfort in the chaos i unraveled? sometimes there's no textbook solution for life’s messiness, and acceptance that i’m flawed is a leap in itself. if you think you have a better solution, well, good for you, but it may not be the one for me. in the murky sea of self-awareness and reckoning, forgiveness might just be surrendering to the vulnerability, surrendering to the chaos... and that's ok. because isn't all this soul-crushing ponder (un)bearably normal??

yeah... life just sucks like that sometimes. 💩

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