615600 seconds…

615600 seconds ago my life changed…

For the better? Yes. For the worse? Yes. For no particular reason? Yes. For lots of various reasons? Yes. All the positive answers in the world meant nothing to me in that moment. My heart lurched from my chest, my breath shallowed, my eyes filled with tears and my mind spun. In turmoil, I rooted through the drawers of my life searching for staples, glue, sellotape, duct tape. Anything I could use to cover the cracks, mend the damage, undo what was done. The cracks were hairline, hardly noticeable. They could be repaired. No one would know they were ever damaged. Surely. But the cracks weren’t cracks, the cracks were scars- scars indicative of days, weeks, months, years of damage that had been patched over before. Time and time again. This was shrapnel.

10020 minutes ago…
I am devastated. I am in a heap on the ground, thrown aside with my sellotape, my glue, my shrapnel. I can’t breathe, my heart is palpitating, I’m in pain, I’m wallowing in pools of my own tears. My body aches. I am in darkness and darkness is all that lies ahead. I’m broken. No adhesive will work this time, I’ve exhausted my supply. My excuses are transparent.

148 hours ago…
My eyes are burning. My heart is whimpering. My head is aching. But my soul is awakening. I can’t change what has happened, I can’t undo the past, I can’t wish it away. It’s a part of me. I have a choice. I can accept it, acknowledge my mistakes, regret misspoken words, always wonder what if… But I won’t. I will not accept this. I will fight and I will fight harder, more passionately and with every part of my soul that I can. My choice is my journey. Where I will not just acknowledge my mistakes, I will take responsibility for them. I will not just regret misspoken words, I will ask for forgiveness and, more importantly, I will explore from where I chose to speak them. I will not just wonder what if, I will question it, challenge it, until I have worked every morsel of my being to restore it. Only then will I be satisfied.

5 days ago…
Everything happens for a reason. The good, the bad, the indifferent, the complicated, the straightforward. Destiny has a purpose and a lesson to teach. Some are just harder than others. I don’t want to be here. I want to rewind in time. I want to circle the roundabout once more before making a turn, I want the upset, the pain, the heartbreak to go away. I want to be restored. I want to be able to sleep all night, I want to eat properly, I want to smile. I want to mean it. It’s too late. Sure, I could gather the shrapnel, painstakingly mould every piece back in to position, hope I haven’t lost some, glue it all together. It would be challenging, time consuming, arduous, but I would know the end result. I would have the familiarity I crave restored in all it’s traumatised glory. I could edit the hours of heartache and revert to a former version, few would be any the wiser. But that’s not good enough. This lesson passed would be as detrimental as it never being learned. This is my opportunity to prove myself, to use the shrapnel- not to rebuild familiarity but to add to the foundations of version 2.0. I will take the pieces of my former self, good and bad, and I will use them to set the boundaries, create a structure from which I will rise. A strong, independent, grounded being full of self awareness. In tune with her own needs, yet not negligent of others. The scaffolding is already taking shape and my pride is growing. I’m not ashamed of this journey, I’m exhilarated by it. The shadowing mountains that looked treacherously over me less than a week ago are already becoming tender hills and the challenges I face are shaping my future. I will not be stapled together, I will not be moulded like clay, I will grow from roots I have placed. Firm, grounded, strong- and with potential to grow endlessly.

Today I met my keeper. The reason for my happiest highs and my lowest lows. A look that once could have made my day or shattered it entirely. Words on which I once have hung. Once my purpose for craving change, now my instigator for craving identity. My own identity. A heart that once swelled is beating to a different rhythm. It’s more intense than ever. It’s new. It is a love detached from all I knew before. For now I hold a refreshed, intense love for my keeper, the founder of my salvation. But it is separate from a new love. A love for me.

This entry was published on March 13, 2014 at 11:03 pm. It’s filed under Life, mental health, well being and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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