When I was younger I wrote about everything. And I do mean everything. I would journal about my multiplication tests, the crushes at school, how much I hated my brother, etc. It was my outlet, and however dramatic and little kid-ish it sounded, it helped. I haven't written my feelings down in years. I haven't kept a journal, haven't done anything close in forever. Maybe that's why it all hurts so bad. Because I've kept it all in.
This year has not been easy, to say the least. I had everything I could have wanted a year ago; still fresh off my trip to Ghana and thankful for every amazing piece of my life, I was riding high. Maybe I took it all for granted. Maybe I didn't know all that I had. Or maybe it was just time for the pain to come back.
I made the biggest mistake of my life in February, a mistake that eventually cost me everything I knew and had gotten used to by the time September hit. I questioned myself, my ability to do the work I loved so much and felt called to. I questioned my morals. I will never, ever regret what I did because I've learned so incredibly much from it. It's still raw and still unsettled. Hearts still hurt over my actions. So details are not important now. All I know is that I learned from it. And I know that despite an awful decision, I am still a good person.
In May I lost my best friend, my "sister", the closest person in the world to me, the person I trusted the most. Jennifer's death hit me like a ton of bricks and I still feel lost with few to turn to, several months later. I remember the day she died and how I could barely drive home from work, barely see through all the tears. I cry a lot as it is but when this happened, I'm pretty sure I thought I had no more liquid left in me. Over and over again I said (and still say now, when I'm upset) "you should be here," it just has never felt fair to me that she had to go and so many people counted on her. I counted on her. I almost felt like I shouldn't make big decisions without her because she always could give me advice or tell me what to do (without actually telling me what to do). And so days later, after her funeral, as her brother (who I never fell out of love with after the first time we were together) told me he still loved me and wanted to be with me, I hesitated. I wanted to know what she thought. I didn't want him to break my heart again without having her around to pick up the pieces. Which she did so graciously before. But I went from slowly letting him back in to recognizing that I wanted us to work out more than anything. My life was good otherwise and it seemed like I had little to lose. Little did I know...
David moved in with me after very little time together, this time around, a decision we came upon with a lot of support from the people around us. I felt loved and supported and was, in a way, reunited with a family I had always felt incredibly close to. Life was good and I felt like Jennifer was watching and was happy. As time went on though, I felt less and less happy, like my independence was slowly fading away from me. I clung to the life I thought I was "supposed" to have; much more time in Africa, a Jo March type life where I cared for everyone selflessly but still was wild and carefree. I never wanted babies of my own, never wanted a traditional life. I wanted to run. So I did.
By the middle of October I had no job, no "love of my life" and was clinging to everything to keep an image of perfection together. Inside I felt worthless. I had caused pain everywhere I went and was letting everyone down. I scrambled to get my life back together. But that life was gone. That life is gone. I deal everyday with the pain that I've caused so many. Some days the only comfort I find is talking to Jennifer. Not God because I still don't feel worthy enough to talk to him like I did. But Jennifer. Some days I'm mad at her because I want her to be here and tell me what she would want. I want her to tell me to let him go again, like she did before, but in my heart of hearts, I want her to tell me that he's my "soulmate," that he's the only person I should be with. Because that still feels like the case.
That old "life" is gone now, I can't have the happiness and security I had back. I lost my best friend, a job, a boyfriend and the family that went along with it. I lost money, time, health, peace. I have been working like a crazy person to get back on track financially and get back to where I thought I should be. Where I should be is in a place where I'm not so damn worried about everything. Frankly, I worked too hard and put in too much effort in too many places I didn't need to stick my nose in. I pushed too hard. What I need is to be happy with what I have. And that's an amazing life. I have a job that is basically exactly what I wanted (however difficult it may be). I still have a roof over my head (something I could have easily lost). I have family, friends, supports that love me and care about me. I just have to tell them how I feel. I basically isolated from everyone. Held in the pain. Acted like I was ok. That several huge losses and the feelings that went with it didn't apply to me. That I was superwoman and would carry on. I will carry on. I will move forward. But it's time to give myself that time to grieve. To process the hurt I caused and the pain I feel. It's time to let myself cry and not feel bad about it. But it's also time to find some peace and move ahead.
