I don't know how to talk about everything that has happened this year, what is still happening, and then the continuing uncertainty.
It's been three years since I left my abuser. That's a thousand days. It seems impossible to think about. But here I am. There are good things in my life that reorder the painful lies and false beliefs that have throttled and suffocated me. It hasn't just been my life, choked out by the fog of war - it has been the lives of my dad, my siblings, my children.
I am reaching into myself and it feels... as it should be. The one thing that I am learning is that life is imperfect, and when something bothers me, that collapsing pit in my stomach, all that means is I haven't accepted what it means yet. It is OK to feel anxious, frightened, stressed, uncertain, disappointed, offended, hurt, embarrassed, rejected. It is OK to feel like you fucked up. Everyone fucks up, and other people sit with their disappointment and recalibrate their expectations as you si