I have been so close to being broken so many times over the last few years, but each time I have fought it, maybe because to me, it was never the right time. This tight control that I have had on myself, in order to keep going forward, has got to come to an end, it is time.
I physically moved on some 9 months back, and I have looked back with moments of great sadness, but never one grain of regret. I had no choice, I had to save myself.
I found a new nest to call my home. I have found my sanctuary, a place where I am free. Maybe it’s because I feel safe, that I think it’s time to trust myself to finally fall apart.
I look at myself, and see a remarkable woman. I look at myself, and think my God, how did I come through this? It is not a question that needs an answer, it is more the overwhelming shock, that I have. It took everything I had left in me, to get here, and in spite of my frequent bouts of depression, I am glad that I did.
Revisiting this time 2 years ago, I can remember the emotions that were ripping through me, that made me start my divorce proceedings, the anguish and the pain when reality made me open my eyes. It was the start of the transformation of the man back into the real beast that he was, it was the beginning of the end. An end that took another 18 months, before it actually arrived.
Then last year, being divorced, but still under the same roof, with the man that I abhorred, who tried to do so many underhand things to further undermine or abuse me. Then there was, my car accident, the one single event that really fucked my life up, my goodness, I was so unhappy then, so utterly miserable.
And now, 1 year on I say that I am happy… it is not really a lie, but compared to last year it has been a complete turnaround. But I know, there is a side of me, that has still to let go… it is clinging on to something that perhaps I am missing now. It wasn’t always bad there were many good moments, but over all, they still remained few.
My feelings of grief, are very powerful right now, I have not been able to shake it off. It’s not just grief for my physical losses, it is the loss of everything else. It is the acknowledgement that at 50, I have made choices, that the average woman would not dare do, for fear of isolation, loneliness or insecurity. I lived with those feelings everyday, and what scared me more was the thought that things would never change, so I had to make sure they did.
Someone said to me the other day, “Your mum and sister, wouldn’t want you to feel miserable every Christmas…” This was after I had said how much I was missing them, it struck me as a rather insensitive thing to say, because I course they wouldn’t it wish it, neither do I, but I can’t help the way I feel, and this came from someone who has not lost anyone really close to them yet. It felt like such a cold thing to say.
The need to cry, has been strong. I am doing my best not to fight it anymore, I know it would do me good, to get that suppression released, to give it a path to flow. Even as I write this, the tears well up and then subside.
This year has been a real struggle, but it has been worth it. Looking at my life now, and everything that I have managed to achieve, in spite of my physical and mental health, confirms that I learnt my lesson well. My fathers words, “You have to fight for your survival”, still echo in the back of my mind, and even though this was wasn’t what he had meant all those years ago, it became true, over and over again!
I have been searching for it, for so long, I often wonder if I will ever find it, for the first time - that simple embrace that melts the monsters away. I haven’t lost my hope yet, and have come to accept that there are many a frog out there, masquerading as a would-be prince; but none of them have yet tempted me with their kiss!
Bad people, have thickened my shell, making me more difficult to break, and being a typical crab I will fight to protect my underside, my weakest point with every manoeuvre I have. I have no tolerance for users and abusers, and I have no time, for anyone who hasn’t time for me. I have been hardened by experience, that is a fact, but within me, I am still the same untouched, soft, fragile and beautiful soul…
So maybe, it is all about finding closure. Closing ‘that’ particular book. Maybe that’s why I can’t cry. Maybe deep down I know I should be celebrating, joyfully appreciating all that makes me, me. Maybe I should give myself more recognition for the battles I have won so far, rather than just their cost to me. Maybe, I should accept that my loved ones, are still very much a part of me, and are with me with every breath I breathe, and every step I take. Maybe they stop my tears, before I can weep so that they are not wasted on weeds that will never bloom.
Maybe, it's just time to fall apart apart, let it be for a while, and rest before I put the final me back together.
Maybe, it’s finally just time… Sx :)