No Longer a Pitcher

For many years, when I got upset, I would throw things. Not at people, usually at walls, sometimes just across a room. For some reason, my frustration, or annoyance, or sadness, or hurt, would come hurling out of me in the form of a projectile object. I recall flying pens, knick knacks, and my first cell phone finding their death through my emotions hurling from my fingers in a non-targeted pitching practice. The last time I remember throwing something was just over two years ago, when the guy I thought I was going to marry ended our relationship over the phone, refusing to give me any reason. The moment when he hung up on me, I picked up the thing closest to my fingers, and threw it into the opposite wall. At the time, I thought that moment was the worst of my life. I realize now, after not having thrown anything for over two years, that it was actually the best. Getting over that breakup was one of the hardest things I have done in my adult life. (And in writing that, I realize how incredibly lucky and easy I have it.) While it was an incredibly difficult experience, I can honestly say I gained immeasurably from it. I grew so much more in having to deal with that breakup than I would ever have if I had married that same man. During the months that followed my final flinging episode, I learned to depend on those who loved me. I learned that my value absolutely does not depend on being involved in a romantic relationship. I learned that it is okay to hurt, and to be sad, and to express it to others. I learned that there are times when it is okay, and appropriate, to cry. I found out which of my friends were really there for me when I needed them, and that it was okay to show my weaker side to those people. I also found out what many of those people really thought about me, and surprisingly, many of them valued me more than I did. From which I learned to value myself more. I think the growing that I did as a result of that breakup taught me how to better deal with my emotions, therefore leaving me without the need to hurl things across the room when the going gets tough. I no longer find myself turning my possessions into a baseball when I am frustrated; I now find myself leaning on those who lend their support, talking out my troubles rather than trying to throw them as far away as possible. I am no longer a pitcher. But now I am much more in control of the game.