OutBack Gypsy

They say there is five stages of grief, they look different on all of us. Happen at different times, paint us different colours but there is still five.

The first one is Denial.

This one is the worst, is it because its first? Is it because of what it is? Who knows but its always the worst.

Whether it is the way it comes about, it could be because of a broken relationship, broken friendship, broken family or it could just be that the life you envisioned for yourself is slowly falling apart around you and you don’t know what to do to hold it together anymore.

That’s where the second stage steps in, Anger.

For a long time I felt angry, angry at my family, at my mother mainly.

I felt so much anger towards her that it fogged my judgement, it messed with my head so much it messed with my life.

I couldn’t stand to be around people who had loving families, loving partners. I felt so much resentment towards her that I resented happiness all together.

That is no way to live.

I felt like people wouldn’t understand how I felt. They hadn’t lived with what I had how, could they possibly understand. But some did, my siblings did but I was to afraid of how I was feeling that never saw them reaching for me, I never reached back.

I just fell.

I fell into a repeating destructive cycle. I hurt my friends. I was unnecessarily cruel, I lied to them because I didn’t want to tell them about how miserable I was. So I lied.

Never about anything important, just about myself, I didn’t want anyone to know who I was, where I’d come from, how messed up I was as a kid.

I lied so much I didn’t know where I was or who I was anymore. But I knew I needed to stop, I knew I needed to tell someone the truth about me, about how I was feeling about what was going on inside my head.

Because if I didn’t, I was going to self-destruct.

That’s when the third stage stepped in, Bargaining.

We are all guilty of this, we all do it. When we are desperate, when we finally find something that we want to hold onto.

It could be a job, a town, a friend or most often and in my case a boyfriend.

I had finally found something that I thought could make me better, but I was wrong.

HE lied to ME!

How bizarre is that right? I felt so betrayed, I thought he was the one thing that could make me better, but he didn’t want me. He wanted someone else.

But I still tried, for some reason I still wanted him. Because I couldn’t see my own self worth. I couldn’t see how special I was so I bargained with my self to stay.

I betrayed myself and broke myself down and told myself it was only once.

I was wrong.

I bargained with him, gave him an ultimatum.

He betrayed my trust.

So I fell, I fell into the fourth stage, Depression.

Only I didn’t know and that was the most dangerous thing that has ever happened to me.

I went by two years without really feeling anything, I was numb, I was sad, I didn’t care about my life.

I went to work I came home, that was my routine. I didn’t enjoy being with my friends I didn’t enjoy going out but I didn’t like being by myself either.

I didn’t know what was happening to me so I ignored it, shoved it to the back of my mind and forgot about it.

But I was ok, Right?

Wrong. I should have been happy, I had a great job doing the things I loved, working with amazing people and spending every evening doing what I wanted.

I had my freedom. But it didn’t make me happy, nothing did.

I stopped hanging out with my friends, I didn’t feel right being with them, I felt like an outsider. Like it didn’t fit in, like they didn’t want me around.

So I stopped being around.

I shut myself in my house and became so absorbed in my own world I had no idea what was going on around me, next thing I know I’m changing jobs, same thing but on a different place.

That didn’t last long. It didn’t last because once I was there I met the thing that had been holding me back and holding me down for two years.

Myself.

I hadn’t let myself feel anything, I hadn’t felt happy, angry, sad or scared for two years.

But being there made me realise how lonely I was, how shut down I had made myself. I hated me for that, its safe to say I thought over the last two years.

About how much I had lost touch with everything around me, about how much joy I had missed out on because of myself.

I had some bad thoughts. Ones that I didn’t like but I disliked myself more.

I felt like I had no one and it was all my fault, I had shut my friends out, my family, my life even. I realised that I had stopped living a long time ago.

I was simply existing.

If it weren’t for my sister I would have fallen into myself a long time ago, she was my tether to the outside world. But even her pulling me out into the light occasionally wasn’t enough.

I still felt alone.

But she pulled me out just enough for someone to see me.

And he loved me for who I was. He took me by both hands a dragged me laughing back into the world. He never asked questions when I was quiet, he would just sit with me. That was enough, enough for me to know that he was there for me.

I knew I could lean on him and he would stay by my side, no matter what happened.

That’s when the final stage brought me back to life.

Acceptance.

I grew and I changed, I accepted everything that happened in my childhood I knew that everything that happened, happened for a reason. I accepted the betrayal of a lost love, I accepted myself.

I no longer felt alone, I found somewhere where I belonged. I found somewhere safe.

Now I know that no matter where I go or what I feel I’m safe, as long as I’m with him.

As long as when I feel scared or alone I reach out, because I know he will always reach back.

He loves me.

But more importantly.

I love me.