There's something to the phrase ‘everything happens for a reason’ that I have long latched onto.
Charlotte from Sex in the City says to Carrie: "Everything happens for a reason. Even if you don’t know what it is yet,” as she attempts to console Carrie after the Berger ‘post it’ breakup note.
“Look at me,” Charlotte encourages. “If I had never married Trey, then I never would have gotten divorced and I never would have met my divorce lawyer Harry, and I wouldn’t be engaged now.”
I've often thought back to this scene (because of course I am a child of Sex and the City and have seen every episode at least three times) as I repeatedly find myself in the role play of Carrie’s life.
As I’ll ponder yet another relationship let down I will ask: "What just happened?” and “How on earth did I let myself end up here again?”
Which is why having such sayings as ‘everything happens for a reason’ can provide me with great comfort.
The mental anxiety, angst and yearning that weighed on my shoulder as I weaned myself off the ‘unavailable’ Tristan is only beginning to loosen its grip. But in hindsight that knight in (perhaps not so) shining armour entered my life for a reason.
He floated in on the long white cloud from the land of (New Zealand) to teach this Eve a thing or two about biting into the forbidden Kiwifruit.
After an adult lifetime of getting caught up in a net of unavailable men - where there’s plenty of fish in that sea - Tristan as it turns out is likely to be my last catch.
Because now it feels like I have finally learned my lesson.
Inadvertent to him, Tristan helped me awake from the spell of my own self destructive path.
Up until now I had never believed a man worthy or of value unless he was out of reach - propped up on a pedestal. He would sit up there and I would make do with sitting on the chair below, waiting for the day he’d topple down into my lap.
It’s been a while between drinks since my last swill of Tristan. Sure, I’ve had a heavy hangover period, what goes up must come down, and I’ve faced more than a few cold lights of day juxtaposed against Melbourne’s winter grey, for my mind to come out of the fog of that particular cloud.
But I believe to my core that Tristan entered my life for a reason. He was my lesson and teaching (and what a good teacher he was, not surprising that he actually does teach tertiary students in Dunedin).
He put on one heck of a farewell do for me – the last hoorah, a swansong if you will - in the long line of saying sayonara to unavailable men.
It took meeting Tristan, experiencing him and losing him – to finally figure it out. This cannot go on any longer.
After years of acting this way and gravitating to the well-worn familiarity of the unavailable man, Tristan sounded alarm bells in more ways than one.
And what a relief to feel it’s over. What joy to know there is and will be a different way.
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