It’s been a while since I’ve been on here. I tend to go in spurts of writing and then ignoring. Feeling and then pretending it doesn’t exist. Being emotional and then smiling it all away. Consistency has never been my forte. I don’t know why I’d expect any other parts of my life to be. I go between struggling to process it all. And pretending it didn’t happen. And then I even teeter a little on the notion that I made it way worse than it was and I’m just being greedy for attention. The poor me martyr. In reality, it’s somewhere in between all of it. It’s a whirlwind of all. And there are even moments where I’ve never admitted just how bad it truly was.
Something about me that I admit is my Achilles’ tendon: I see the good in things. To a fault. Usually to my fault. Not just in people. In situations as a whole.
They couldn’t actually have meant to be that cruel. They couldn’t have meant to hurt me. It was just the way I interpreted it. It’s my fault that I got my feelings hurt for no reason.
But in reality, it was exactly that. Or even worse than what I admitted. And that’s humiliating. And humbling. And infuriating.
The tough part about healing is when you forget to feel it in the first place. When your today’s beautiful reality outshines the pain of the past and you’re free. Until you’re not. That sneaky way that the tar of pain can creep in when you’re not watching and freeze you in your place for no other reason than to show you it can. There’s no warning. There’s no trigger. Just BAM against the wall of angst. And you’re frozen in the nightmare. And it doesn’t make sense.
That’s where I am. Trying to figure it all out. Trying to understand what the truth of the past was instead of the rosey tinted view I let myself believe in. And it’s hard. And it hurts. And it’s tricky and sneaky. And it makes absolutely no sense. My poor sweet husband. I wish I could explain it to him. He doesn’t understand. He wants to help. He wants to heal me. He wants to figure it out so he can explain it to me. But it’s muddy chaos. And constantly changing.
And it’s hard.