Somewhere I lost my way…I mean really lost my way… When I left my husband it was devastating, but a much needed step to gain my own happiness.  I was proud of myself for taking a huge, terrifying step towards… well… ME.  I was not the sort of proud where one is cocky, but the proud that is quite, simple, and is grounded in knowing.  I was relieved that I had finally taken a step. I was doing something for my SOUL, and it felt true and good.

And then it all faded to black… okay, that isn’t true. I invited the black in, in the form of an ex-lover, I invited him in with wild abandon and with so much hope and love, that I did not think it would be possible for it to turn bad.  Nevertheless, it did turn bad. Fast. Deadly bad… but those are other blog posts…(to the right over there).

After I took that next step in protecting my happiness (as well as myself) in the form of a protective order I worked hard, and I mean fucking hard, at getting back some of what I felt had been stolen from me.  However, try as I might The Shattering set in, and all though it fades from time to time, I am still living with it. A constant reminder, not because some boy broke my heart, or a stupid front door.  Not because I lost my home, or a job, or any of that… but because I lost my SELF and it’s going on two years…

And everyone seems to know how to get me back. Everyone but me… and all I want to say is “fuck you” and “you’re right” and “fuck yes I’m scared, fucking terrified”.  I am tired of people swaying in and out of my life with all of this advice and not being strong enough to actually just sit beside me and be. That is all I need right now, that is all I want. Just sit there, help me to feel that there is nothing wrong with all that I am and all that I have become and or lost. Just fucking accept me for the fucked up mess that I have become and quit fucking judging me so GD hard.

Yes, this has gone on long enough. I know that better than anyone, I’m living it. Yes, I don’t smile as much as I once did. Yes, I get my feelings hurt. Yes, I am sensitive. Yes, I take naps a lot. Yes, I have insomnia and panic attacks. Yes, I have flashbacks of bullshit I wish I could forget. Yes, I hate men. Yes, I find it hard to trust anyone. Yes, I want to lie around and grieve longer. Yes, I want a fucking job and to be done with all of this. Yes, I want to fucking breathe again easily, and laugh even more so. Yes, I want a fucking life. Yes, I want children. Yes, I want a house. Yes, I want a car. Yes, I want a place to live, a place to belong. YES! YES! YES!

AND

NO, I DO NOT FUCKING CARE WHAT YOU THINK ANYMORE.

I lost my way.  I really lost my way…. but I am a survivor.