The Mountaintop I Can’t Stop Staring At

I’m doing exactly what I know I’m not supposed to be doing.

I’m standing at the base of my mountain, staring up at the peak that lies thousands and thousands of feet above me. 

It’s overwhelming. 

My mountain is, of course, an analogy for what seems like a tough-to-accomplish goal.

Here’s what Kobe Bryant said about facing our mountains: 

“If you stand at the bottom of Mt. Everest and look up, you’re gonna say I’m not climbing Mt. Everest. But if you break it down into sections and just put one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, next thing you know you’re at the top of the mountain.”

In essence, he suggests doing the exact opposite of what I’m finding myself doing at the moment. And I’ve been beating myself up because I know better.

This time-tested mindset is one I’ve adopted in many aspects of my life—my career, my writing, my fitness. 

But there’s one area where I can’t rip my gaze away from the peak, and my inability to do so is leaving me feeling overwhelmed and paralyzed—truly letting go of my ex.

This is the problem: though I’m ashamed to admit it, I am still fantasizing about “fixing” him.

I desperately want to “fix” his inability to connect with people emotionally; to “fix” his chronic pain; to “fix” his aversion to real and stable commitment. 

And I didn’t even realize it—or, more accurately, wasn’t letting myself admit to it—until reading one particularly relevant passage from Dr. Ramani Durvasula’s new book entitled It’s Not You: Identifying and Healing from Narcissistic People.

“Healing means getting them out of the scene completely. It means focusing on your growth, success, and happiness separate from them.”

See, though I’ve been telling myself that I am intent on genuinely healing, I’d be lying if I said I’ve been doing everything to heal with only myself in mind. 

I haven’t been. 

When ordering books online, I clicked “purchase” on several that I thought would be great to share with him. When I signed up for courses, I preemptively imagined the insightful and engaging conversations he and I would have about them. 

Perhaps most importantly, I’ve been finding myself trying to sprint to the “finish line” of getting over him—whatever that means—so that I could have the “greenlight” to establish a friendship. 

My healing journey, without fully realizing it, had been centered around him. 

But to heal I know I have to re-center my healing on myself—it’s the only way I can climb my mountain. It’s the only way to let true love and happiness into my life. 

That begs the question: How the hell do I really, truly let go? 

Right now, I have no idea. Maybe in time, I’ll learn and grow enough to let go completely, who knows. 

So, in this moment, all I’m doing is choosing to repeat this beautiful mantra from Marianne Williamson’s A Return to Love whenever I think of him: 

I forgive you, and I release you. 

A sense of peace and acceptance almost always follows.