I’m still afraid.
Several months ago, I stopped writing. I allowed attacks, accusations, and endless bombardment to stall me. To fill my head with worry that my words would be used against me during each encounter.
My words hurled as proof of my inadequacies. My lack of resilience. My failures.
I’ve decided it’s no longer my job to fear interpretations or retribution. This is my space, my sanctuary and I’m taking it back.
I’m very excited to share my article published this morning with A Fine Parent, parenting blog, focusing on becoming better versions of ourselves as parents. I’ve loved working with them and being a part of their mission.
Rugby is my kind of sport. Damn.
Grateful for friends and nonjudgmental ER staff. Feeling pretty close to my limit, but we’ll see what tomorrow holds. I can take it.
I am not a willow
It seems our agreement shifted. And if I wanted to I would. If I believed anything other than the past would repeat itself, I’d behave differently. If I had it in me, I’d be right back on board. But,
I don’t have it in me. I don’t believe anything other than the past will repeat itself. In my deepest depths, recesses of my heart and mind, all my hidden coves, I know that nothing will change. I know that I will go through this over and over until I’m completely destroyed. Angry. Hateful. Resentful. Incapable.
And that’s not who I want to be. Not who I am. Not a person I’m willing to become.
I believe in goodness, in love. I believe in awareness, in knowing when you’re done, in trusting to know when we’ve reached an impasse.
It’s not that your aren’t worth it. You are my greatest love. You are everything I hoped and ever wanted. You are a kaleidoscope.
But I have scar tissue built up around my ability to go back. It’s marbled, knobby, held fast. I can see no, feel no, believe no other way.
The distance stretched too far this time. My heart is hardened. My hope proved insufficient. Asking for work, effort, belief, is out of the question. I’m tired. And I can’t.