I may not be very religious, don’t believe in ghosts, think magic is stupid…but I do believe things happen for a reason. Recently, my past has crept up into my present. The thoughts, the doubts, all the pain I once experienced is burning inside me again. I have been reliving a lot of things I’d rather not, but know in my soul that it may be the only way to properly heal. I have been having nightmares, night sweats, no appetite. I haven’t been feeling my best, in spite of staying true to my cycling workouts and healthy eating (when I actually feel like eating). Add the stress of being unemployed, and I’m finding it hard to keep a smile on my face. But I do.
My mother gave me so many things to be grateful for. And nothing has taught me more about myself than her passing. I find it difficult to navigate through life’s rough patches, though, because she was my North Star. I looked to her when I got lost. She was the only person on this earth who truly understood me, and didn’t judge me for the things I believed to be true. When there was no one else, she was my rock. Even when we had a blowout and our relationship was rocky, she found a way to have compassion for her little girl when the world wasn’t so nice.
And now… well, I guess I keep a lot of it inside. But maybe I can use it as fuel.
I came across a few photos of someone this morning. He is apparently getting married. Could have been me. OOF. He was responsible for crushing my entire world in a matter of seconds. A relationship built on lies, fear, and dependency. For a moment, we called it “love”. We talked about marriage, houses, and the rest of our lives together. All that blah girlie bullshit we’re made to dream about. I think he was more of a rebound, though. He was something tangible, although I adamantly rejected his attempts at wooing me in the beginning.
So I gave in…”fell in love”…gave up everything I cherished…and lost myself in this shell of a human being. The rest is history. Funny how that stuff changes us.
And one day I realized that crazy feeling wasn’t love. It wasn’t even close. And I was going to be ok.
I love a lot of things. But really, I don’t even know what that means. My mom wasn’t able to explain this one…