The past year

Sometimes I like to take a look back on my life.

Sometimes certain circumstances cause me to accidentally jump back to where I was–all the hurt, shame, fear, anger, etc. But, I think’feel I am getting better at focusing on the present as well as the future.

Just a year ago i was so different–so guarded, I would work out for hours at a time so I would be strong… So I wouldn’t have to depend on anyone for help. I refused to let myself get close to any guy for fear that it would turn out the way my other one did. I couldn’t look at myself as something anyone would want–in my eyes, i was a screwed up human being. But, maybe I was.

Now, I don’t want to come off as cliche OR sappy, but everyone always told me that someday someone will come along that will make me feel different.

Yeahhhhh, rightttt.

Well, I met a guy. Not saying he is “The One”, haha, but if he is not, he has been a very good thing for me. I have found that it is, sometimes, okay to ask for help (still working on that one ;)). Sometimes I need help putting my kayak on the top of my car or reaching something, etc. and that’s okay. When we first starting dating,  I told him all of my past telling him that I still believed that everything that happened was my fault–that maybe somehow, someway I could have prevented everything that happened. He somehow convinced me that it is NOT my fault. Yes, it happened, but it was not my fault. He helps me talk through things and helps me to not freak out even when I want to. My boyfriend reminds me that he is not my ex, and that is so nice to know.

 

Through this, I have learned that it okay to not be strong, it is okay to let some of my guard down. I am not so incredibly screwed up that no one would ever want me. Yes, I can jump back to my past thoughts quickly, but I am learning and working towards focusing completely on the here and now.

 

Signing off for now.

SJQ

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One Comment Add yours

  1. Larry says:

    I’m am proud of who you have become, and am thankful I have been able to witness it.

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