captivatingbitter

Some days I feel like I don’t exist anymore… and in some ways I suppose I don’t.  I am not the girl I was  years ago… I am not the woman I was a few months ago.  I am changing all the time.  For the longest time I fought that tooth and nail…I thought that was a bad thing.  I thought that changing meant I was losing a piece of myself ~or worse ~ all of myself.  I thought I would not be me anymore.  Turns out – I wasn’t.  But that is ok.  I began this blog to journal my healing journey.  I have been runnin’ a lot lately.  I have been hidin’.  I have been sneakin’ around hidin’ behind syntax and proper grammar.  I have been flowerin’ up my language and tryin’ to be proper.  Truth is, I am so angry.  I am so dang mad I could scream…and have!  I have screamed, cried, prayed… I have felt lost and confused and abandoned.  I have felt needy and weak.   It feels like the deeper I dig the more junk I find and I feel like I will never be ‘done’.  Like I will always find more junk to dig out and toss away.  My current list – well, it’s loooong – but I am working on it.

I found someone in my family decided to throw away a 20 year marriage, he has just thrown it away and utterly failed his wife and son.  He has been cruel and abusive and I am so disappointed in him.  He hurls insults and he is so hateful.  I doubt I would even recognize him anymore.  Not that we are close.  Those days are long over.

I am still working on my trauma therapy, having been beaten, raped, molested, abused…I just want to live, you know?  To really live.  I find myself tiptoeing around – literally.  I find myself trying to make myself small and not to be a bother.  I find myself waiting on the pain to rain down on me.  It is killing me.  It is killing my marriage.  My husband married me, but got this docile, hiding, timid woman instead.  I don’t even know who I am some days.

I am … well, not thriving… but hoping to thrive.  I am tired of living on bread and water when there is steak and wine.  I am ready to have my heart feast instead of hide.  I want to swim in the ocean of emotion … swim, and possibly, drown.  But I am ok with that.  I don’t want control anymore.  I want to be lost.