Hahahah. I am smiling to myself as I write this. I feel kind of crazy. But in a totally good sort of way, I think.
Last night, I Skyped a friend which Protagonize knows as "Rosalyn." :) We talked and talked and talked and talked about so many different things. Halfway through, though, I mentioned that I wanted to get rid of a list I'd made.
The list of "What I Am Not." The one with the labels with which I used to torture myself whenever I deemed myself worthy of punishment (which was pathetically often, but that's beside the point).
But I didn't want to merely get rid of the list.
I wanted to destroy it.
So right before I destroyed the list, Rosalyn asked me, "Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you're ready for this?"
"No," I replied. "But my best choices are always made impulsively."
First, we prayed. I mean, I prayed aloud, and Rosalyn prayed silently with me as I spoke the words. This, in itself, is a victory. I think it's only the second time I've prayed aloud in over a year. Anyways. After the prayer, it was time to destroy the list.
The way Rosalyn and I destroyed the list (Rosalyn was with me through Skype during the entire ordeal) was to first fill a glass bowl with warm water. Then, I immersed the list in the water completely. After that, I squeezed an exorbitant amount of red food coloring into the water and stirred the water until the red food coloring had turned all the water a dark red.
Like blood. Like Jesus' blood, covering all the labels I'd once given myself - labels like "broken" and "unlovable" and "unteachable." I know it sounds kind of ridiculous, but it was an incredible visual.
I reached into the water and began to tear up the paper. "The paper tears much more easily when it's been soaked in water," I mused.
Rosalyn caught my point immediately and said something to the effect of, "The labels are destroyed when Jesus' blood covers them."
But that wasn't it. I marched over to the sink (carrying the laptop, of course, so that Rosalyn could see everything that was going on) and poured the contents of the bowl down the drain. After that, I ran the sink disposal, the loud sound quite satisfying.
"Look," Rosalyn pointed out. "The bowl is clean now."
And it was, indeed. There was no sign that the bowl had ever been dirtied in the first place. Crazy.
"It feels so good," I said, "knowing that I couldn't get the list back, even if I wanted to."
"And I don't think you'll ever want to," Rosalyn responded.
Warrior, what is it that you're holding onto? What is it that you know you ought to be letting go of? Let me tell you - writing down your struggles and then destroying them...it's beautiful. It's such a visual way of letting go of the things that weigh you down.
My list is gone. Is yours?