When does it get easier?
When does the hurt pass?
When they ask about my life,
Where do I start the story?
Will I always feel the need,
To talk about you first?
Inserting a prelude,
Trying to explain how I ended up here.
I don’t want to forget,
Twenty years is a long time.
I don’t want the past to fade.
And yet…..
I never want to look back.
I see a whole different past.
All my memories dirtied by the past five years.
All the happy, never was what I thought.
The love was not love,
It was need.
A need to feel needed.
A need to feel like you were enough.
Both of us victims of our own trauma.
Neither knowing how to properly love ourselves,
Much less each other.
One of us needing to be the hero,
The other wanting to be saved.
It would seem it was the perfect fit.
And yet….
It was toxic and it was unhealthy.
A bond built on trauma.
A marriage build on shaky ground.
So much of my life,
Some of the biggest parts of my story,
Hidden among the rubble.
Do I keep trying to pick up the pieces?
Piecing together a resume of my life.
What parts do I keep sharing?
When I tell the story,
Where do I start?
It would feel like my life starts now,
This is the most alive I have ever felt.
And yet…..
I have raised two amazing kids,
And I served Leo well as his partner.
The vacations, the deaths,
The time spent apart.
Getting sober, and getting sick.
So many things,
All those years,
I have loved every second.
With a servers heart,
I honor every time I serve another.
I am blessed to do it.
Knowing what I overcame,
I wouldn’t change it for the world.
And yet….
Where do I start?
How do you explain your now?
Without including your then?
How do I express my joy for the future?
Without telling them of my past?
How do you let go of someone,
Life won’t let you let go of?
I don’t want my past erased,
But I feel as if I haven’t yet lived.
Only now fully feeling what life has to offer.
Coming into my purpose,
And living from that place.
When someone asks,
What is your story?
I want to start from here.
Watching their eyes smile
As I speak about doing what I love.
I want to talk about my now,
Sharing my vision.
Talking of love, and peace.
I no longer want you in my story.
Your presence feels unwelcoming.
Speaking your name makes me sad,
It gives you power over my now,
But you no longer have power here
And yet…..
When does it get easier?
When does the hurt pass?
When they ask about my life,
Where do I start the story?
Comments