I made it.
I’ve been away, for a while. The writing became too painful, and the words weren’t helping me to cope – they had lost their magic.
I didn’t write for attention or recognition. Know that I didn’t write for you. Not for your thumbs up, or loveheart shaped like. I wrote to survive.
I don’t know what finished it for me, what brought me out of my haze. I do know that by the time I felt I had no other option but to die, that I was afraid, alone and desperate.
For months I felt like Alice in wonderland, without the wonder or hefty grinning feline. Only blank, unfamiliar faces were available and on some days in the quiet, with the sound of the dryer trundling behind me; they haunt me still.
I can’t tell you how many and from polar opposite perspectives in my head the voices came.. and oh, how they still try to come, on any occasion I let my guard slip. They were screaming and wailing, laughing and singing, they were so confused – and so was I.
But I’m here. I’m living, I’m breathing, I’m smiling and laughing. I am doing everything I never expected to again. I am doing everything I was convinced I didn’t deserve to, again. I am recreating myself day by day, emotion by emotion, tear by tear.
Thank you small friend with the big green eyes, for lending me your empathic and honest ear. For teaching me that it is okay to be me, for reminding me of my strengths and having the faith in our friendship to allow me to do the same for you. I love you.
Thank you husband, for despite our problems and trials still loving me when I didn’t feel I could love myself. For believing in me and reassuring me when I need it, and giving me real security for the first time in my life. I love you.
Thank you mother; even with your own personal disturbances and voices to quell, you try to silence mine. You have proved to me that the maternal bond is like no other – complex, raw, painful and amazing at any one time. I love you.
Thank you brother; for keeping me real when I needed it. For being the soul to my soul and being honest and frank, even when it hurts. Thank you for caring for me and allowing me to care for you, for trusting me with your woes and for burdening mine.
Thank you to the absent friends and family. You taught me the most. You taught me not to place something so precious as my worth on your correspondence or attentiveness. You taught me that family is less about blood, and more about intention, about meaning. You highlighted to me, through painful and sometimes unbearable displays of neglect, where my time and emotions should and should not be invested from here on out. Thank you.
So yeah; I’m back, bitches.
And I’m fucking better than ever.