I Got Out. I Chose Me.

I got out. I chose me.

I’m not going to let anyone make me feel small anymore. I’m not going to be afraid to say the wrong thing. I’m going to make mistakes, and I’m learning that mistakes aren’t a bad thing. They’re an opportunity to learn. To grow. To do something differently next time.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped truly being me. No one made me do anything. Honestly, it was easier. And eventually I realized I was taking the easy way.

I’ve always been stubborn. I’ve always been the person who will not take responsibility for something I didn’t do. So when did I start doing exactly that? Yes, I’ve always been hard on myself, but when did I start blaming myself for things I had no fault in? Things I wasn’t responsible for?

How many times did I cry to Alex about something that happened and immediately follow it with, “But I did this,” or “But I did that”? Somehow always finding a way to make part of it my fault.

Eventually I started wondering if maybe I wasn’t the good person I always thought I was.

But I am. I know that I am.

That doesn’t mean I’m perfect. It doesn’t mean I’m always right. It means I can fuck up, learn from it and keep going without making myself smaller because of it.

His trauma created trauma. Hurt people hurt people. I don’t blame anyone for the things that happened to them or the ways they learned to survive.

But I’m no longer going to allow someone else’s hurt to become mine. That’s what I mean when I say I got out.

I chose me.