In just a little over a week it will be six months since my life changed more suddenly, and more unexpectedly, than I would have cared for. Six months since God decided to smack me across the face and pull me back to something I didn't even realize I was starting to misplace: me.
Before I inch any closer to theatrics, I'll just stop myself. That is not the point of this post. The point of this post is simply to exhilarate at the feeling of returning to myself and finally feeling like my life is my life again.
When the proverbial &^*% hit the fan, one of the things my mom told me stuck more than others:
"You are about to be so much stronger than you ever thought possible."
Intellectually of course, I knew that was true (easier said than done). When it comes down to it, you basically have two options in life - kill yourself or get over it. Harsh, yes. And for the record, I do not mean to offend anyone with that statement (haven't you ever heard of shock value?). I'm just saying that I knew there was really only one option for me. "Getting over it" seemed harsh, but in its basest form, that is exactly what I needed to do.
And now, much as I want to say I'm all moved on and such, I know that's not entirely true. But I'm certainly moving on. It's happening, slowly but surely. I am on the watch. There are ways out. There is a light somewhere, and it certainly beats the darkness. The gods are offering me chances. I will continue to know them. To take them.
My life is my life and I will know it while I have it.
I'm getting there.
And happily so.
This is a great post. You are great.
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