"I did it once. I can do it again." My recent mantra. I tell myself this in the mirror in the morning, right before I slip into a dream state at night, and anytime in between when I think about making contact with the person who has now been dubbed "poison" in my life. In early December, my "posion" situation was playing out exactly as it is now. I managed to cease all contact back then, and even met a new guy (Safety-net; whom I ended up dating for about a month and a half), but "poison" crept back into my life. I opened the door for him, thinking it would end differently this time. Nothing has changed (other than my ability to have "relationship talks"). So it's time to cease all communications with "poison" once again. His phone number has been deleted and the last (unresponded to) e-mail was sent on Sunday. I stopped talking once before. I can stop talking again.
"Poison" will find me though. On the "L" platform." On the 22 bus. At the same Cubs games. This city is huge! And he seems to be everywhere in it. Sitting (unnoticed) right in front of him on the bus, frozen with fear, I internally repeated over and over again, "I did it once. I can do it again." I reached my destination without contact. I walked into D.O.C. and told my wine companion about the "encounter," but then proceeded with the rest of the night as though nothing unusual had happened. No urge to send him a text inquiring, "Were you on the 22 at 8:30?" No late night call placed in a wine drinking fog. Just one journal entry.
I did it once. I can do it again.
This morning, as I went about my (new) morning routine of a 30 minute walk and a 20 minute tanning session, it occurred to me that this mantra represents so much more than my ability to leave "poison" behind. Summer of 2006, I joined weight watchers and lost 17 pounds. I did it once. I can do it again. Junior year of college, I was regularly waking up at 5 to go to a 6 am spinning class before I started my day. I did it once. I can do it again. I found a picture of myself as a freshmen in high school and I had (what I consider) long hair! For years now, I had convinced myself that my hair did not grow long and that I was destined to have the same (face-fattening) hairstyle for the rest of my life. Apparently, I did it once. I can do it again.