ThirtySix

I have somehow found myself on the wrong side of 35; but why is it the wrong side? What is so wrong with getting older? Why am I suddenly the villain? Is it because of my age? Maybe it’s because I’m so gloriously single… Though I’m not the only one. I do not seek what they seek, but maybe it’s because I do not understand what they are chasing. I chase fevers and run after fears; what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. I’m stronger than what most like to believe, but that is because I like breaking rules just like boys like lifting my ego; it doesn’t make sense, but I always end up on the beach dressed in red.

Society likes to hold up mirrors as opposed to looking into them. It’s amazing how readily we call out the Karens and the Felicias, but the boys in the back can hoot and holler with a kiss and a pat. They’ll never learn the lessons even though we must take all their tests; it’s a wonder how any of us ever actually pass Go.

Two years ago I found myself at a crossroads.

I could either stay or I could run.

Fight or flight.

What most - all - didn’t know… Was that, for over a year, I had fought with every fiber of my soul to save the love I had sworn was real.

It had been for me… Until I realized it wasn’t.

I fought to keep the tears and cries silent as I hoarded my plans closer than my prayers… They say Hell hath no fury… Hell learned fury from a woman betrayed.

He destroyed himself with the layers of lies and deciet he couldn’t keep track of; He couldn’t understand how I surrounded myself with truth and freedom, and how high I flew because of it.

I didn’t have to drag names or history through the mud; he did enough by spinning in circles.

I regret not standing with more anger; I could have saved myself future hurt. But lessons are mountains, and the harder they test us, the higher the view is once we overcome them. Because we can look at every experience as an obstacle that will prevent us from living, or we can look at them as opportunities that will push us to fly past the horizon.

For the better part of my life I have always protected those who crossed the line, swearing loyalty to my morals as though they were bigger than God. But as I approach the forbidden age as a woman, I have decided that these secrets are my stories too. And that they are what created the life I have led for the past 35 years. And tthat for the past four hundred days, I have been clawing my way up out of this black abyss that I somehow pushed myself down. And though my nails are ripped and my face and feet are dirty from the jungle, my heart beats a little stronger. I breathe a little better, and my dreams are becoming more solid.

I have not suffered as much as most, but I have experienced nightmares that most would hide from. I’ve cried and I’ve screamed into the darkness, pulling at my hair and clawing at my soul, begging for answers that would shatter me. I’ve overcome obstacles and turned them into adventures just so I wouldn’t crumble; Stubborn bravery is really just stupidity dressed in sunrises and shooting stars.

The only thing I can do is to continue to fly high and dive deep, because if we can’t see within, we cannot understand what is around us.

Four hundred days ago I was still so angry and hurt and bitter.

But that is what happens when you find yourself in the sticky web of a narcissist.

There is no cure for their victims. Time can sometimes soften the symptoms.. But, in the end, it is up to the survivor to let go of the pain.

It is not forgiveness… The only forgiveness I owe is to myself.

I forgive myself for allowing another human to have such utter control over my existence and my happiness.

I forgive myself for allowing another human to dictate how I slept, how I woke, how I lived… Every action was a reaction.

I forgive myself.

As I look towards the following month, I am eager. Because there is so much to look forward to. Thirtysix isn’t so frightening… For each day I keep getting closer and closer to me.