Wait a minute.
What am I doing? How have I so quickly forgotten the uncoupling of all these sorrows, the lightness of spirit I felt without them? So easily they find their way back, scurry up my arm, rattle my ribs…
The past year’s avalanche of rage and tears and epiphanies unearthed the seeds of the beautiful parts of me. Bravery. Energy. Curiosity. Grace.
I discovered I am the best version of myself when I am being me - sentimental, chatty, slightly unsophisticated me - not when I am focused on wondering which parts of me were the ones he let go of, fled, discarded. And wondering if I should also run from them, run from myself. No more.
Instead, I’m going to run toward something. Run toward the dream I thought was out of reach. Run toward the tiny, seductive, illogical chance that I can still build something extraordinary from a legacy of ruins. Run toward this renewing, evolving self and not toward him. Any him.
Chasing down my own dream is a love affair in itself. And that’s the one I really want to fall for this time. Maybe it’s time that I became the love of my life…If you liked this, why not share it?
Remember, share is a verb too.