“An epiphany (from the ancient Greek ἐπιφάνεια, epiphaneia,
“manifestation, striking appearance”) is the sudden realization or
comprehension of the (larger) essence or meaning of something. The term is used
in either a philosophical or literal sense to signify
that the claimant has “found the last piece of the puzzle and now sees the
whole picture,” or has new information or experience, often insignificant
by itself, that illuminates a deeper or numinous
foundational frame of reference.” –Wikipedia
I’m writing about epiphanies simply because I had a massive one. I have spent (wasted) a lot of my life waiting for someone to have an epiphany (yes, usually a man, and usually about me, or how the loss of me from his life would be so utterly devastating that he would have to put on his shiny armor and hunt me down to sweep me off my feet and look after me forever (cringe) – yes, embarrassing to admit I know!) when all along the epiphany that was waiting for me was “The biggest epiphanies
are the ones you have yourself, when you realize that no-one’s epiphany (the one you were waiting for but they didn’t have) can change the way you feel about yourself, and the only person who can change that about yourself is you”.
The first time I waited for an epiphany of the boy-kind was with my first boyfriend, who after two weeks of playing pool with me at boarding school said he wanted just to “take a break” but he thought perhaps he’d still come over and hang out with all my friends at boarding school, because they were heaps of fun (all hanging around us simpering at him while we played pool!). He didn’t ever decide that the break was over and after a couple days of me feeling confused about whether or
not I was allowed to simper about while he played pool and basketball with my friends, I let that one go.
On the other hand, my first love took me about 2 years of waiting for the epiphany before I figured it was never coming and perhaps I could move on (of course it was still important that he knew I was hot and cool going forward because even if he wasn’t going to have an epiphany I was cool with him having a bit (lots) of regret about letting me go).
Oh dear, Is it even appropriate to acknowledge that stuff? Is it because I am now so much more cool and mature about all things boy-kind (although I think perhaps if you say cool three times in as
many sentences perhaps you are not cool at all? I’m fairly sure my teenage daughter would agree)? I mean I wrote a blog on heartbreak making me hot, so perhaps I am as uncool and princessy as ever? No, I’m not. Thank goodness! The princess was a pain in the ass. I’m cool with being uncool.
When you believe that anything outside yourself can make you happy – like really, truly, satisfied to the soul happy – you are either always searching for that thing or you are loading a lot (like a massive freaking lot) of weight on the thing/person you already have to fulfill your expectations of happiness. And it’s fairly certain they or it will let you down (not because they want to, just because it will never be enough).
So now, I can see the whole picture, I found the last piece of the puzzle, she was already in me, I just needed the epiphany.