It’s said that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, that our past is called the past for a reason and that what lies ahead is far more worthy of a stare down than what lies behind. And that’s all good and well but I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t look back, what may be considered, too often, and simultaneously, mentally beat the shit out of myself, not only for the act of looking back, but for actions in my past that cannot be undone. And sure, maybe it doesn’t kill me, maybe I’m still alive and breathing but does it really, truly make me stronger? Or is that just something that we tell ourselves to make ourselves feel and appear better, stronger?
When I first decided that I wanted to get a divorce, I was initially reticent. In fact, I was downright reluctant about telling anyone but a select handful, let alone beginning a blog. That didn’t last long. Something innate in me demands sharing the truth, no matter how painful, in a sometimes, dramatic and grand manner, perhaps to drive the point home or perhaps because I don’t know how to be anything else but theatrical in my deliverance.
As I mull over the sometimes cruel events of my past, the relationships, the mistakes, the regrets, the poor decisions and the rather life shaping, joyful moments that have the ability to make me smile to this day, I cannot help but ponder the what-ifs, the whys and the whens. What if I was more patient when I was twenty-four? Why did I get so bent out of shape about that? And when did I lose my faith in so many vital components of my youthful spirit? There is, currently, a seemingly endless list of questions I’ve been asking myself in effort to create a more hopeful future but then there’s the loss of faith in a future at all.
I do hope you’re not thinking, “Jesus, what a drag this woman is. How dismal her outlook, how jaded her approach!” Although I would understand if you were thinking those things, I must respond with that I am complicatedly consumed in the midst of intense, internal development that requires much retrospect, vigorous self-analysis and above all, the sometimes evil, downright dirty, no-holds-barred truth.
I know I’ve said it before and I’ll say it here and now, if I cannot be honest with myself, I cannot be honest at all. There would be no point to my committed endeavor for self-growth. There would, essentially, be no growth, for growth or enlightenment or whatever you wish to label it, is proudly and unequivocally rooted in pure and utter truth.
This particular blog, my dear readers, is said endeavor – I write because somewhere in between each line, each word, and punctuation, I seek, or rather hope, to discover a resounding truth – a truth that will demand to be shared, to be told in all of its vivid glory.