I’m not a woman who dates. I’m a woman who loves.
But I’m also not a woman who is in a place where I should be in love right now. Or even attempting to be.
I need to focus on me.
And that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy sex, intimacy, or having someone in my life. I can fuck to fuck. I can enjoy that connection with one person without needing to turn it into something more. I’ve been clear from the beginning that I’m not interested in multiple people, and that hasn’t changed.
But something else needs to change.
As much as he’s helping me, I cannot allow him to become the only thing that’s healing me. Because then I’m doing the exact same fucking thing I’ve always done.
I’m codependent. And the hardest part of admitting that is realizing I genuinely don’t know how not to be.
I allow myself to change depending on who I’m with. I’m a chameleon in the worst way possible. I adapt to the person I’m with, sometimes so much that I lose parts of myself without even realizing it.
And that’s not healthy.
My dad recently told me he hasn’t seen me this good since I lived in my apartment in Byron Center. That was 14 fucking years ago.
Fourteen years.
And I think that says a lot about who I become when I’m in a relationship.
Because the person I am in relationships isn’t always the person I actually am.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m an amazing partner. I know that. I’m a catch. I have so much to offer someone, and I’m not going to downplay that anymore.
But I need to learn how to be an amazing partner without sacrificing the person I am.
I need to be able to love someone without changing myself to fit into their life. Without giving away pieces of myself that nobody even asked me to give. Without making another person responsible for my happiness.
And if I try to be in a relationship right now, I know I’ll keep doing it. I’ll keep giving parts of myself that I don’t have to give, or breaking them off entirely because I think that’s what being a good partner means.
I don’t want to do that anymore.
I keep talking about making a bucket list of all the things I want to experience. The adventures, the places, the things that scare me, and the things I’ve always wanted to try.
But I need another bucket list.
One for all the things I need to work on within myself. The patterns I need to recognize. The things I need to learn. The parts of myself I need to understand better.
Because I am nowhere near ready for another relationship, and that’s okay.
And then there’s Kyle.
Of course I’m going to have emotions with him. I already do. I’m not going to pretend otherwise or convince myself that I can just turn those feelings off.
But we have boundaries. We communicate. We talk about things, even when they’re uncomfortable.
And I need to keep doing that.
I need to stop being so fucking afraid to say what I need to say. I need to trust that I can express myself without it having to mean something is wrong or that I’m going to lose someone.
More importantly, I need to understand that he is not going to fix anything for me. Nor do I want him to.
I’m so fucking thankful for this friendship. For the conversations, the honesty, the encouragement, the connection, and yes, all the perks that come with it.
But I need to enjoy those things for exactly what they are.
I don’t need to figure out what this is going to become. I don’t need to wonder what tomorrow means or where any of this is going.
Because that’s another thing I need to work on.
I spend so much time thinking about what’s going to happen next that I forget to enjoy what’s happening right now.
And right now, I’m doing better than I have in a very long time.
I want to keep doing better. Not because of someone else. Not for someone else.
For me.
I want to figure out how to be completely myself, whether I’m alone or with someone. I want to learn how to enjoy a connection without losing myself in it. I want to be able to love someone someday without making them the center of my entire world.
But I don’t need to figure all of that out today.
One day at a time.
That’s it.
One fucking day at a time.
-
-
I just watched Regretting You for the second time, and something occurred to me.
The best movies are the ones you can watch again and experience completely differently. The story hasn’t changed. The characters haven’t changed. But you have information you didn’t have the first time.
And suddenly, things that seemed insignificant mean so much more.
You understand why someone said something. Why they made a certain decision. Why they reacted the way they did. You’re watching the exact same story, but you’re seeing it from an entirely different perspective.
And I fucking love that.
Because isn’t that how life works, too?
Sometimes you don’t understand something until you have more of the picture. Until you learn something that changes the meaning of everything that came before it.
But this movie also hit me in a much more personal way.
You can give someone everything. You can love them, support them, make sacrifices for them, and they can still cheat.
And cheating is cheating.
There’s something incredibly dark about looking back and realizing everything you put up with, everything you endured, only for it to end that way.
That’s the darkness I’m terrified of feeling again.
Not necessarily the loss of the relationship itself, but the weight of everything that happened within it. The realization of how much of yourself you gave to something that ended in betrayal.
And I’m recognizing just how much your environment has to do with what’s happening in your head.
The people you’re around. The conversations you have. The things you’re exposed to. They all affect your perspective, whether you realize it or not.
And maybe that’s another reason this idea of perspective means so much to me right now.
I can understand something that hurts me without having to agree with it or want it.
Someone recently told me that if I ever entered a relationship and that person wasn’t comfortable with our friendship, they would understand if I needed to end it.
And fuck, that sucks to think about.
But I understand it, too. I respect someone enough to recognize that their relationship and the boundaries within it are theirs to decide.
That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be hurt. It doesn’t mean I would want things to change.
It just means I can see something from a perspective other than my own.
And I think that’s what keeps bringing me back to this movie.
The story doesn’t have to change for your understanding of it to change.
Sometimes all it takes is seeing it again, knowing what you know now. -
I’m trying to learn how to live like everything is fleeting. Because it is.
People, experiences, opportunities. None of it is guaranteed. And I’m done wasting time worrying about what something might become instead of enjoying what it is right now.
I’m not going to spend another two years grieving something or putting my life on hold. I’m not going to keep overthinking every decision until I’ve talked myself out of doing something I genuinely want to do.
If I want to do something, I’m going to fucking do it.
And if I decide I don’t want to do it anymore? I can say that, too.
It really doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.
But there’s something else I’m recognizing about myself, and I think it’s important.
I’ve spent so much of my life keeping people at a distance. I’m unbelievably good at it, actually. I don’t want to burden anyone with what I’m going through, so I don’t talk about the things I probably need to talk about most.
Instead, I’ve relied almost entirely on romantic relationships for emotional connection. And when I find someone I connect with, I tend to give everything immediately. All the attention, affection, effort. Everything that should naturally develop over time, I try to give all at once.
And I’m starting to understand why.
My view of myself has been so fucking low that there was a time I couldn’t even look at my own reflection without crying.
Imagine that.
Imagine looking in the mirror and seeing exactly how terrible you feel inside.
And nobody noticing.
But I can’t really blame anyone for not noticing when I’ve worked so hard to make sure they couldn’t see it.
That’s something I need to work on.
Because I don’t want to keep living that way. I don’t want my only meaningful emotional connection to be with someone I’m romantically involved with. I want friendships. Real friendships. People I can talk to, learn from, disagree with, laugh with, and just enjoy being around.
I think my favorite thing about our friendship is this.
Talking.
Seriously. These conversations are probably my favorite part.
We can have completely different perspectives and still have respectful, meaningful conversations. We can challenge each other’s thinking without turning it into an argument. I can talk about things I normally wouldn’t, and I trust you enough to actually listen to what you have to say.
And I think that’s incredibly valuable.
I also think these conversations can help me work through some of the darker things I’ve been avoiding.
Because I know there’s grief I haven’t fully allowed myself to deal with. And I know that continuing to avoid it isn’t going to make it disappear.
I’m not asking anyone to fix that for me. I know that’s something I have to work through myself.
But I think having people in my life I can genuinely talk to is going to be part of that process.
And I don’t want to turn every conversation into something heavy, either. I don’t want to feel like every couple of weeks I’m unloading everything I’ve been keeping inside.
Although, calling myself an emotional brat isn’t fair, either.
I’m allowed to have emotions. I’m allowed to talk about them. I just need to find a healthier balance.
Because I also need to cool my fucking jets, get out of my head, and enjoy what’s right in front of me.
And I genuinely enjoy this friendship.
You’re a delight to talk with, and you’re a delight to fucking fuck.
That’s a pretty damn good friendship, if you ask me.
But even without sex, I enjoy spending time together. We do things. We’re social. We have fun. We talk about things that matter. And I trust you.
I don’t need to know what that looks like six months from now. I don’t need to figure out where it fits into some bigger picture.
I just want to appreciate it for what it is today.
And that’s really what I’m trying to do with everything in my life.
Stop putting so much pressure on every experience to mean something more.
Stop treating every connection like it needs a destination.
Stop wasting the present trying to predict the future.
Because I’m finally doing things I want to do. I’m cooking. I’m getting out. I’m trying new things. I’m making plans. I’m enjoying experiences instead of just thinking about having them.
And I want to keep doing that.
I don’t want to spend my life preparing to live it. I want to actually fucking live it. -
I want a provider. I want a protector. I want a leader. I want a dominant man. I want emotional maturity, communication, stability, affection, and someone who chooses me every single day.
And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting any of that.
But I think it’s important to explain what those things actually mean to me, because they’re not necessarily what someone else would assume.
I want a provider.
Not financially. I don’t need someone to pay my bills or buy me things. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and I take pride in that.
I want someone who provides something money can’t buy. Time. Effort. Consistency. Emotional support. A sense of security.
I want a partner. Someone who sees something that needs to be done and does it. Someone who notices when I’m overwhelmed and asks how they can help. Someone who contributes to building a life together because they genuinely want to.
Because that’s exactly the kind of partner I am. If you’re stressed, let’s talk through it. If you’re trying to accomplish something, how can I help? If something matters to you, it matters to me.
I don’t need someone to carry me. I want someone who will carry things with me.
I want a protector.
Not someone who fights my battles for me. I’m perfectly capable of standing up for myself.
I want someone who protects my peace. Someone who considers how their actions affect me. Someone who doesn’t intentionally put me in situations that make me question where I stand.
I want to feel safe being vulnerable. Safe expressing my feelings. Safe being completely myself, even the parts that aren’t always easy to understand.
And I want to protect him, too. His feelings, his vulnerabilities, his peace. I want to be someone he can come to when the world feels like too much.
Protection should go both ways.
I want a leader.
But I don’t want someone who controls me.
I want someone who takes initiative. Someone who can make decisions, communicate what he wants, and follow through.
I don’t want to have to plan every date, initiate every conversation, or be responsible for figuring everything out.
I love doing things for people. I love planning surprises, celebrating accomplishments, and making the people I care about feel important. But I want someone who takes that same initiative with me.
Someone who says, “I’ve got this,” and actually means it.
And I want us both to be able to lead. Because a partnership isn’t about one person always being in charge. It’s about recognizing each other’s strengths and working together.
I want a dominant man.
And I think people can misunderstand what that means.
I am a strong personality. I’m loud. I’m blunt. I’m opinionated. I’m independent. I can be a lot, and I actually love those things about myself.
I don’t want someone who tries to overpower that. I want someone confident enough in himself that he doesn’t feel threatened by it.
Someone who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to show it. Someone who can take the lead while still respecting my boundaries, my opinions, and my independence.
I want confidence, not control. Assertiveness, not aggression.
I want someone who can be strong and still be gentle.
I want emotional maturity and effective communication.
This one is huge.
I want someone who can have uncomfortable conversations without turning them into arguments. Someone who can hear something difficult without immediately becoming defensive.
I want someone who is self-aware enough to recognize when he’s wrong, apologize, and actually do something differently.
And I expect that of myself, too.
I know I can be emotional. I know I can overthink. I know sometimes I struggle to explain exactly what I’m feeling. But I’m willing to talk about it. I’m willing to listen. I’m willing to understand another perspective, even when it challenges my own.
I want someone who is curious about why I feel the way I do, just as I want to understand him.
We don’t have to agree on everything. We don’t even have to understand everything immediately.
But we have to be willing to try.
I want mental stability.
Not perfection. Not someone who never struggles.
We all have things we’re working through. I certainly do.
I want someone who takes responsibility for himself. Someone who recognizes when something isn’t right and is willing to address it.
I don’t expect someone to always be happy or positive. I want to be there through the difficult days, too.
But I can’t be responsible for someone else’s happiness, and I don’t want someone to be responsible for mine.
I want two people who are actively taking care of themselves while also supporting each other.
I want to be spoiled.
And again, this has nothing to do with money.
Spoil me with attention. With affection. With thoughtfulness.
Remember something I mentioned in passing. Send me something because it made you think of me. Plan something because you know I’d enjoy it.
Kiss me. Hug me. Hold my hand. Be affectionate without it always needing to lead somewhere else.
I love the little things. Sometimes they’re actually the biggest things.
And I want to spoil someone right back.
I want to celebrate his accomplishments. Make his birthdays special. Support the things he’s passionate about. Do something completely ridiculous just to make him smile.
I want him to feel loved in ways he doesn’t even have to ask for.
Because that’s how I love.
I want self-awareness.
I want someone who knows who he is, or at least is genuinely trying to figure it out.
Someone who understands that his experiences have shaped him, but doesn’t use those experiences as an excuse for how he treats people.
Someone who can recognize his patterns, acknowledge his insecurities, and work on the things he wants to change.
I’m constantly learning things about myself. Sometimes they’re wonderful things. Sometimes they’re things I don’t particularly like.
But I want to know them. I want to understand myself better.
And I want someone who is willing to do that work alongside me.
I want clingy. I want obsessed. But most importantly, I want safe.
I don’t mean unhealthy obsession. I don’t mean jealousy, possessiveness, or someone who needs to know where I am every second.
I mean someone who genuinely enjoys being around me.
Someone who wants to tell me about his day. Someone who gets excited to see me. Someone who reaches for my hand, pulls me closer, or gives me a hug just because he wants to.
I want to be wanted.
I want someone who is as excited about spending time with me as I am about spending time with him.
And I still want us to have our own lives, interests, friendships, and independence.
I don’t want us to need each other to exist.
I want us to choose to share our lives because being together adds something wonderful to both of them.
I want someone who chooses me every day.
Not just when things are easy. Not just when everything is exciting and new.
I want someone who understands that love is also a choice. It’s effort. It’s consideration. It’s showing up.
It’s being honest when something is wrong. It’s having the difficult conversations. It’s respecting boundaries even when you don’t necessarily understand them.
It’s continuing to learn about each other because neither of us is going to be exactly the same person forever.
I want someone who chooses to grow with me.
And I want to choose him, too.
Because here’s what I think matters most.
Everything I’m asking for is something I’m willing to give.
I want to be his provider, his protector, his safe place, his biggest supporter, and his best friend.
I want to build him up. I want to celebrate him. I want to be there when things are wonderful and when everything seems to be falling apart.
I want to laugh until we can’t breathe. I want to have ridiculous conversations. I want to go on adventures, try new things, and experience life together.
I want to be able to sit in complete silence and still enjoy being together.
And I want to be completely myself.
The loud, weird, blunt, affectionate, emotional, sometimes overwhelming person that I am.
I’m someone who genuinely cares about people. When something matters to someone I love, I want to be part of it. I want to help. I want to make things better. I want them to know that what matters to them matters to me.
That’s one of my favorite things about myself.
And I know I have a lot to offer someone.
I’m not perfect. I don’t expect anyone else to be, either. I’m still learning, still growing, and still figuring things out.
But I know how deeply I can care. I know how much effort I’m willing to put into the people I love. I know how much happiness I get from making someone else happy.
And I think those are pretty incredible qualities to bring into a relationship.
I don’t want someone to complete me. I want someone to experience life with me.
Someone who sees everything I bring to the table and wants to bring just as much.
Because I know what kind of partner I want.
And I know what kind of partner I can be.
I’m not just looking for a catch.
I am one, too. -
I need to start sharing what I write on Facebook, too. Because if I’m going to write a book someday, I need people to read what I write. I need them to be interested. I need them talking about it.
Writing can still be part of my healing, but it doesn’t have to be just for me.
I’ve had people tell me before that something I wrote helped them. And I’ve read things other people have written that have helped me.
Words are unbelievably powerful.
They can hurt. Absolutely, they can hurt. But oh my gosh, they can heal. They can mend. They can build.
Words can be anything you give them the power to be.
And I need to stop worrying about how what I write comes across. If someone doesn’t want to read it, they don’t have to. They can keep scrolling.
But maybe someone will read it. Maybe something I say will resonate with them in a way I never expected.
And that’s what matters.
Because writing helps me. And if sharing those words can help even one other person, that’s reason enough to put them out there. -
Part of my healing is learning to stop beating myself up over how I reacted to losing the most important person in my life. That’s in the past. I can’t change it. But I can choose how I move forward, and I think part of that is learning how to honor her.
I am my mother’s daughter.
When I am at my best, I build people up. I celebrate them. I make their things big things because people deserve to be celebrated. And that’s exactly who my mother was.
She was the hostess with the mostest. Birthdays, celebrations, anything that gave her a reason to make someone feel special. She was selfless. She did everything for everyone else without expecting anything in return. If she could help someone, she would. That’s just who she was.
And those are some of the things I love most about myself, because I’m that person too. I learned it from her.
There are certain compliments you receive in life that you never forget. In almost eight years at the casino, the one that has stayed with me the most came from someone I barely knew. Kermit told me I was genuinely kind.
Of all the things someone could say about me, that’s the one I remember. Because that’s who I want to be. That’s who my mother was.
I need to embrace those parts of myself again. Not because I need to become someone different, but because I genuinely love those things about who I am.
I can be strong and independent and still care deeply about people. I can show joy, affection, and appreciation. I can celebrate someone’s birthday and make it a big deal simply because I want to. I can build people up, support them, and make them feel special.
And I need to stop worrying about whether someone thinks it’s too much. Too over the top. Too whatever.
If someone doesn’t like something, they can tell me. I need to give people the opportunity to tell me instead of making that decision for them. Stop worrying so much about how someone might feel about something I haven’t even done yet.
Because I love doing those things. That’s me.
And I think I’m realizing that one of the best ways I can still be with my mother is by being the person she taught me to be. By carrying those parts of her with me and continuing to share them with other people.
When someone tells me, “You look like your mother,” it’s music to my ears.
My mother was beautiful. She had the most genuine smile because she was genuine. She was adored and loved because she adored people. She loved people.
She was a wonderful, wonderful woman.
And I’m her daughter.
So am I. -
I was told that this person I’m being is fake. And I argued that it wasn’t. But in actuality, maybe it was. Not because I was pretending, but because I genuinely thought I had changed that quickly. I thought I had somehow moved past the sadness.
But the sadness doesn’t just go away.
I’ve been doing everything I can to keep myself occupied, to focus my brain on other things, different viewpoints, different outlooks. I’ve been bombarding my brain with positive things, and it has helped. I don’t think any of that is fake. But I think I’ve been so focused on moving forward that I convinced myself I was further along than I actually am.
Because when everything stops, and I’m just sitting in this house, the sadness starts creeping back in.
But I don’t think it’s the house itself. I think it’s the memories in it. I need to start creating my own memories here. I need to make this house my own. I still haven’t even decorated because I’ve been holding myself back. But nobody actually told me I couldn’t. So why am I waiting for permission? I need to just do it.
I’m realizing I’m not out of the sadness yet. And I need to recognize the things that make it worse. Like smoking. When I smoke, I can’t turn my brain off. Everything I’ve been keeping myself occupied to avoid thinking about suddenly comes rushing back. I feel all of it. Then I obsess over it, focus on it, and keep pulling myself deeper into that sadness.
So I sit outside and experience.
And maybe that’s something I need to understand better. There’s a difference between keeping my mind focused on positive things and actually allowing myself to feel what I’m going through.
I don’t think the person I’m becoming is fake. I think the happiness is real, the change in perspective is real, and the effort I’m making is real.
But so is the sadness.
And I think I need to stop expecting one to mean the other no longer exists. -
He’s been nothing but completely open and honest with me. We both have been. But I think what’s more surprising is that he is. Not because I don’t trust him, but because I haven’t had that. He says what he thinks, and he means what he says. And that’s so unbelievably wonderful.
We asked the big questions right away, and since then, we’ve just been slowly getting to know each other and building a friendship. We both know there’s chemistry and a connection. But what’s so different is that we’re building intimacy through respect, friendship, genuine appreciation, and simply enjoying each other’s company. Not just physical attraction. Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely attracted to him. But there’s so much more to it, and it’s really nice.
He doesn’t say things just to make me feel better. He’s thoughtful about what he says, and he knows I have some dark times ahead of me. Yet he’s never once asked me not to talk about what I’m going through. I still feel weird about it sometimes, almost like it’s wrong. But I’m so thankful to have someone who meets me where I’m at. Someone who, when I was having a shit day, simply gave me a hug and said, “I think you need this.”
And it’s funny because I’ve always said I’m anti-hug. But I think that was more about not wanting to make myself vulnerable or seem needy. Because in all actuality, physical touch might be one of my love languages. I don’t know. I have multiple. But there’s something so comforting about a genuine hug. And I love having my hands on someone, too. It doesn’t always have to be sexual. The caressing, scratching, massaging, just showing care through touch. Making someone feel calm, comfortable, and good. I love being able to give someone that, and I’m realizing how much I appreciate receiving it, too.
What also blows me away is that I can talk to him about things I’m unbelievably insecure or embarrassed about, and he just listens. After that day when I was an emotional wreck and let things get to me, I talked to him about it the next day. He didn’t get defensive or make me feel wrong for how I felt. He listened and genuinely seemed to appreciate that I told him.
Even something as simple as the word “bitch.” It’s a word that bothers me because of how it was used toward me. The disrespect behind it. “Listen, bitch.” “My bitch would do this.” I explained that to him, not because he’d ever called me that, but because I wanted him to understand. And now, even when he uses the word casually, he’ll catch himself, apologize, and correct it. I never asked him to change how he talks. He just heard something that hurt me and made a conscious effort not to make me feel that way.
And that genuinely blows me away. Being able to tell someone what bothers me without it becoming an argument or having to defend why I feel that way. Just being heard, respected, and seeing that reflected in his actions.
He’s also been very open about not rushing into a relationship, and I appreciate that. I’ve never really dated before. I’ve only been in committed relationships, so this is something entirely new for me. I’m learning how to simply get to know someone without feeling like it has to be anything more than what it is.
And honestly, I’m enjoying it. We have a genuine friendship, and I believe it’s good for both of us. His friendship is good for me, and I believe mine is for him. We enjoy each other’s company, we can be honest with each other, and there’s a mutual respect and appreciation that I genuinely value.
Then last night, he invited me over to build Legos with him and his daughter.
It wasn’t some big introduction or anything that needed to be made into more than it was. Just an invitation to spend time together. He’s always been clear that if he introduced someone to his daughter, it would simply be as a friend. And that’s exactly what I was.
Of course, I wanted to make a good impression. I like her dad, and she’s the most important person in his life, as she absolutely should be.I’m really thankful I got that invite.
Not because it means anything more, but because I genuinely enjoyed being there. Getting to know another part of his life and seeing the relationship he has with his daughter was something I really appreciated.
But what really got me was seeing them together.
Seeing how patient, kind, and loving he was with her. And it wasn’t an act. This is just who he is. It probably sounds creepy, but I could have sat there all night just watching their interactions. Seeing how happy and loved she was. How comfortable she was with him. How her safest place in the world seemed to be sitting on her dad’s lap while we watched the the Golden Ticket game show.
That says so much about a person.
I think you learn so much about someone’s heart by watching how they treat the people who matter most to them. The connection they have, the love they give, and the safety those people feel with them.
And seeing that last night meant more to me than I think he could possibly understand.
The type of person he is really does blow me away. And the thing is, I’m still just getting to know him. There’s so much I don’t know yet, and I’m not rushing to figure it all out.
I’m just genuinely enjoying getting to know someone. Appreciating the friendship, the honesty, the connection, and the little moments that come with it.
And I’m perfectly happy letting things be what they are today. -
I am a lot. And I mean that in the best possible way.
I’m loud. I’m blunt. I’m weird. I get ridiculously excited about things. I laugh and talk too loud. I ask a million questions. I say what’s on my mind. I feel deeply, care deeply, and love deeply. I want to experience everything I possibly can, and I want people in my life who actually want to experience it with me.
I’m the person who will bend over backwards for someone without them ever having to ask. If you’re trying to do something meaningful for someone you love, tell me, how can I help? If you’re frustrated, stressed, overwhelmed, or just need to get something out of your head, talk it through with me. I understand needing to get it out without trying to fix it. Sometimes I just want to be beside you while you figure it out.
I want that same kind of presence in the people I keep close. Tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me when something matters to you. Be excited with me. Challenge me. Call me on my shit. Let me do the same for you. Let’s make each other’s lives bigger, not smaller.
I want adventure and ridiculousness and conversations that accidentally last for hours. I want random plans and quiet nights. I want to laugh until I can’t breathe and be able to sit in complete silence without needing to fill it. I want people who are willing to say fuck it, let’s go, even when we don’t know exactly where we’re going.
And none of that means I won’t grow. I want to be challenged. I want to learn. I want people around me who make me think differently and help me become more of myself.
But I’m keeping the weirdness. The bluntness. The loudness. The curiosity. The intensity. The part of me that gives a shit, probably more than necessary. The part that wants to help. The part that wants to know everything about everything. The part that wants to squeeze as much life as possible out of however much of it I get.
I am a lot.
And that’s exactly how I intend to live. -
I don’t regret writing any of it. I needed to finally look at what happened and stop pretending it wasn’t as bad as it was. I needed to understand how I became who I was and why I carried so much for so long.
But something shifted today.
I don’t live there anymore.
What happened to me happened. What I allowed to happen happened. The choices I made happened. I can’t go back and change any of it. I can understand it. I can learn from it. But I don’t have to keep fucking living in it.
Because none of it is happening today.
And that’s where my head is now: What happened today? What happens next?
That’s it.
I spent so much of my life letting yesterday decide how I felt today. Something would hurt, and I wouldn’t just feel that one thing. I’d carry it. Add it to everything else. Replay it, question it, and somehow one painful moment became a hundred until I was drowning in all of them at once.
I’m not doing that anymore.
I’m still going to get angry. I’m going to get sad. I’m going to cry. I’m going to have moments that fucking hurt. I’m not trying to become someone who doesn’t feel anything.
I’m just not giving one bad moment the rest of my day anymore.
I’ll feel it. I’ll cry. I’ll be pissed. And then I’ll ask myself: Okay. What next?
Because that’s the part that’s mine.
I won’t always get to choose what happens to me. I can’t control other people, what life throws at me, or whether tomorrow goes according to plan.
But I can control what I do next.
Maybe that’s what I finally understand. Healing isn’t pretending the past didn’t matter. It isn’t forgetting it or burying it. I needed to look at it. I needed to admit what happened. I needed to understand myself.
But eventually understanding the past has to turn into living differently in the present.
I don’t need to carry every painful thing that has ever happened to me just because it happened to me.
It happened.
I felt it.
And now I’m moving.
I’m not drowning in my sadness anymore. I’m not building a home inside everything that hurt me. I know who I want to be now, and she’s the only person I have control over.
Me. Today.
And tomorrow, I’ll choose her again.
The past happened. It matters.
But it doesn’t get to decide what happens next.
I do.
