Just a girl and the internet.

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Back to Writing

I keep promising myself I will write more. And I do. On scraps of paper here and there but it just isn’t the same. You need it all together. Somewhere where you can look back and remember where you came from, how you’ve improved, how not to backslide… Journaling has always been so important to me because as Elizabeth Wurtzel says in a much more poetic fashion… if I write it down maybe it wont eat me alive…

I was trying to gather up the scraps of paper and put them all together in one place in my attempts to be more thoughtful in my writing and I found two writings that I must have writing while high on emotion because I barely even remembered writing them.

The Bad…

… You and him and the nostalgia of every other concert you’d ever attended ever… standing next him… the one. Where your heart started and, for so long, you believed it ended. It didn’t end. It’s intelligence far beyond yours helped you take the necessary steps back to show you that not only can you survive but that in the scariest moment of love, and life, it wouldn’t be scary unless you’re entire being is invested. In this sense, you’ve done something right. Here in this moment is where you show the true depths of what you know love to be. You’re whole being saying there’s no chance I could live without him. And yet you now know you’ve been wrong before so maybe it’s okay to chance a chance again…

The Bad…

…I want to say I am not devastated that he disappeared again. But I am. I want to say I didn’t give him permission to come back into my life only to run away again. But I did. I want to say I truly believed he’d changed. But I didn’t. I want to say, next time, I will know better and not let him in. But I won’t.

I’m not sure how someone can have so much power over another without even doing anything to obtain it. I’m even less sure how nearly two decades later, the power is just as strong and defaults every lesson I’ve learned, every boundary I’ve built, and every wall I’ve put up. It makes it worse, for some reason, that it’s not even his goal to have this power over me. Maybe if it was intentional, it’d be easier to break the spell…

Stay tuned for the Reckoning…

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Don’t Stop Believing

You and him. The nostalgia or every other concert you’d ever attended. ever.. Standing next to him… him. Your one true love. The place where your heart started and for so long the same place you thought it ended.

It didn’t end. It’s intelligence beyond yours, helped you take the necessary steps back to show, not only you, that this was survivable but that in the scariest moments of love and life…. they aren’t scary unless you’re entire being is invested. In this sense, you’ve done something right. Here in this moment is where you show the true depths of what you know you… what you know love to be. You’re whole being saying there’s no chance I can live without him and you now know you’ve been wrong before so you take a chance… the breathe sucked from your lungs. Your ground has never felt so shaky before. A day goes by. And another. And a few more.

You aren’t the same person you were, how could you possibly be? But you are no less amazed by the lessons you learned in distress and you cant discount the fact that you are still whole. You were not broken. You may even be more whole.

In a picture perfect world, you could get all of this without the pain. But there’s life in that pain and you’d never know what you might have missed. the only word that can describe this trip you’ve been taken, unexpectedly, is illuminating. And with enough time behind you, you cant help but feel thankful. All the “if only I’d known then’s” you can mutter, they can’t, they just won’t produce the you that now knows what real love looks like and continues to set fires in your soul to obtain just that when your time is ready.

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Depression for Dummies

“Depression is like a bruise that never goes away. A bruise in your mind. You just got to be careful not to touch it where it hurts. It’s always there, though.” – Jeffrey Eugenides, The Marriage Plot

Thought Catalog

This quote couldn’t be more poignant. I have been holding on to it in a draft for some time now wondering how any words I follow it with could possibly do it justice. They won’t. So I decided to just write Freudian style because the quote was too good not to share.

Anyone who has dealt with depression in it’s varying degrees will understand how true this quote is. It’s as if it’s a wound that never fully heals or, in the very least, you fear hasn’t fully healed and so you tip toe around that area so as not to disturb it… Lord knows you don’t want to wake up the beast.

I feel like this quote spoke to me so loudly because up until this year I had gotten back in to the habit of tip toeing… fearing that any sudden movement could rock the boat… and then, despite my light footing and attempts to hold back at truly living life, my world was inadvertently turned upside down. I would love to say the other character in that part of my story is to blame, but she’s not. They were my skeletons in my closet, she just opened the door.

Who would think a year later I actually considered writing her a thank you letter. She is not exactly deserving of such niceties (I still think she’s a conniving terror haha) but without her ‘help’ I am not sure where I would be now. I certainly wouldn’t have taken such a bold risk to live my truth, left my ‘comfortable but painful’ job, and returned to be in Atlanta where things are still slightly unknown. I definitely wouldn’t have rocked my OWN boat that way. But here I am. And I am stronger for it. So while I won’t thank her personally, I am thanking her as I write this because without the struggles we had and the bottom I had to hit I wouldn’t be here now. God bless anyone else who crosses her path in the way that I did, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy… but I am extremely grateful that I had such awesome people in my life to walk me through my darkness and help me find the light at the end of that tunnel.

My bruise is always there. After the past year, I am less scared of it’s touch on my life though. Bruises hurt, especially when prodded, but they always heal.