We've all heard the saying "don't give up, never give in." The reality is that there are times when we must; when our very survival depends on our giving up, when it is just foolish to hold on.
Sometimes giving up may be the only prudent choice. Sometimes the road comes to an end. We must pay attention to where the road turns so we can turn with it, lest we run into an impass. At some point in our maneuvers, we must recognisze where we must let go of the old vine and clutch the new, or we will find ourselves dangling in this jungle; stuck.
Changes in direction do not signify an end but a new path to new selves. Once I had dreams that I held tightly to, with dogged determination, I refused to let go because I always heard that you should "never give up". One day, I realized that there is a time, when one must investigate whether it is to one's advantage to keep holding on to a particular dream. It can get to the point where it is just downright foolish to hang on to something, when the validity of that dream is past. We have to face the consequences of the things that we have allowed into our lives that now make our dreams, not impossible, but impractical and sometimes downright detrimental. And it is better still to let go, than to be flung cold from our fantasies, limb left clinging by the nails to the edge of a fantasma.
This is not about punking out. This is about strategic maneuvering. It is the difference between astute fortitude, and wishful thinking. Unplanned dreams are not much better than a life of wreckless abandon. Never giving up does not mean holding fast to one thing, banging your head against the same brick wall, hoping you will wear it down; it means never stopping doing something, just anything, until one of those things pans out.
This includes people. We should not hold on to people who have made the decision to move on. Once upon a time, in a land far away, I fell in love with a beautiful boy. He was, as they say, my first true love, the love of my life, the man of my dreams. After one of the most beautiful years of my life, he broke off our relationship and refused to communicate a reason. I did all I could to get back to him. He took no phonecalls, he never answered the door or the long love-or-death letters I sent him. My heart was fist-smashed into a deep hole of darness and dung. It took me years to recover. Recover?! Hardly. He was a damn dj. Let me say this, ladies, never, ever! fall in-love with a dj. Every song I heard on the radio, no, not just love songs--which would naturally stir the pain with its freakish past-life lyrics--no, every single song I heard from that period neutralized the numbing syrum of silence and life-in-general, that dulled the pain of losing him. Every tune drove me to banging my head against the steering wheel, and rocking myself to sleep at night. I would burst out crying at parties for no reason that would be apparent to anyone but my mom. She often heard the soft crying in my room at night, and saw my untouched dinner shivering on the dining table. "Oh boy. Here we go again." She would shake her head in pity. I eventually stopped listening to music altogether. Whatever - I'm so over him ... and I don't live with my parents anymore - I grew up and I moved on.
But seriously, people have to move on when they evolve beyond the ones they're with. Of course it's usually better when you both evolve at the same time.
