Today

A year in recap.

One year ago, you broke my heart. Shattered it into a million tiny pieces.  You took my world, my familiar, and pulled that rug out from under me so fast that I barely knew what happened, and with it you took away my home, my family, and whatever small pieces of my broken heart were left. I walked away from it all bruised, beaten, bleeding, defeated.

One year ago, I learned the true meaning of chaos. I learned the real meaning of despair. I learned how it really feels, physically and emotionally, to have a broken heart. And I would rather have been stabbed.

Ten months ago, I thought I realized acceptance. Those circumstances I thought I had control over, I gave up. I believed in my head that I was moving on, but my heart knew better. But, ten months ago, my head learned how to ignore my heart.

Nine months ago, you broke my heart again. I wanted to curse you out, kick at you, scream at you, and wish upon you all the hell and damnation that God himself could conjure up. And then I almost wanted to die. Almost.

Seven months ago, I achieved success in my education. I contributed some of that success to you, I believe. I take it back. It was all me.

Six months ago, I thought I would never find a job that I would like. I spent days with  my best friend, and together we raised each other's spirits and gave each other encouragement. I thought about you less and less. My mind was still ignoring my heart.

Five months ago, I made a mistake that cost me a dear friendship. I cannot take back what I did; I can only continue to ask forgiveness in hopes that one day things will be made right.

Three months ago, I did not consult my doctor. The panic returned, the anxiety, the fear, the raw emotions engulfed me until I finally heard what my heart had been screaming at me for quite some time. "Please, let go." (By the way, the letting go part is the point during which more emotions than seem humanly possible come screaming out of you, all at once, for days at a time. It's a freakshow).

Two months ago, I made a decision to stop. Stop hurting myself. Stop hurting those close to me. Stop holding back. Start over.

One month ago, I struggled with the stopping thing. I began to teach myself how to change my line of thinking, how to turn negative thoughts into positive thoughts. I tried practicing not thinking about you with so much animosity. Sometimes it worked.

A week ago, I realized I had not cried for my loss in a while, because, as it turns out, it wasn't a loss after all. It was freedom. Freedom from being a second-rate version of myself, the version I turned into when I was with you. When I left you, she stayed behind. It just took me a while to figure that out.

Today, I am me. I am not second-rate, and I am certainly not the person you always wanted me to be. I am becoming the person that I have always wanted me to be. There are still difficult days, still days when I wonder what I did or what makes the next person better than me, but then there are good days. Great days. Days that I realize that I am in a better place now, even if it took mountains of hurt to get here. Those days make me smile.