Is it really over?
One morning, you wake up and life suddenly changes forever. At the time, it feels like the world you know so well has been snatched from under your feet. I’ve had this experience, now, three times in my years short. 35, is no life at all, I have much more to live for yet.
Melodramatic, perhaps? I think not. In my 20’s, fresh faced and wide eyed, flashbacks, of child abuse tormented my living moments, for so long. A world, I cherished, torn from my claws desperate. Thrown into a whirlwind, unanticipated, I reeled for many moments, long. Finally, fragments, scattered of a self, bruised and damaged, a light began to shine through the cracks. I lived on, in hope. Years, went by. A sense of security, blurry, enveloped me until a storm knocked on a door unexpectant. 2011, kicked me hard in my gut, a cruel virtual boxing match that lost I, at the time. World, new, again slipped from beyond my fingertips, fragile. My sister, 12 years younger, disclosed her abuse. No security blanket could appease this nightmare, that longed in sucking from life it self. Reeling, still from the aftershocks’ of this earthquake, quivering, I continue on. Again, I find a place, where life tempts me closer to a world different, again yet. This time, I reassure myself, that this is the last time. My world will not crumble no more. A cruel joke, from the grand master, will stop soon enough. Right? Hmmmm. No. Wrong. An unsuspecting 2013 smacked me in the face with CFS/ME. My struggles with life, a helpless, mess defeated. Reared it’s head ugly. My dignity and independence, stripped by bits, now laying naked in a room, noisey only in my head. And yes, here, I am piecing it together again.
I don’t write this for a pity party. Far from it. I write this, with the realisation that no matter what, our worlds will evolve. They are intended too. Simply, I am a consequence of a life given to me. However, how I acted it out were in my choices, conscious or not. They were mine. Ignorance and unawareness didn’t deem irresponsibility, mine, as a get out clause. So, here, I am, finding a new place in a world, which again is unfamiliar but is it really all negative?
Of course, I have my life is a bitch moment, like anyone. But this isn’t my reality or my destination. I have a right to be pissed off. I am. I will be. However, I don’t intend to live in it. There’s the difference. Without my illness, I couldn’t really have discovered my passions, desires and genuineness. I feel I was merely a passerby, in my own life. Like shoes, that didn’t fit anymore or perhaps never did. With having layers stripped from myself, an authentic self a stranger, distant. I now find a world, I actually enjoy. Why? Well, I created it. A door, new has opened to creativity, artistry, colour, new ideas and expression. Its all within what I deem fit. My past, my anxieties, my family, my sisters, will always be a part of myself. Its how I carry them along. We are beyond abused. Our damaged pasts neither our identity or our entire truth. History, is history, no matter what. I choose our present. Also, I choose how to recreate moments, precious. After all, its only I have. With this comes a freedom from doubt and never belonging. It matters no more. I belong with I.
I belong regardless. Don’t like it? No problem. Open a door another.
Maybe, our worlds will continue surprising us but one thing for sure, I changed myself to better cope. Nothing, now, will wipe away a beginning I’ve created, cloud it, yes. No more earthquakes, destined here.
Give up, never. You have no idea what happens next.
Sparkles to all.