It gets better.
A year ago you never dreamed you’d be where you are now.
You knew it would be hard but you had no idea how hard it would be.
You knew you would be sad once everything settled down. You knew, after spending as many months as you did in warrior pose, that once you relaxed everything would hurt.
You knew muscles you didn’t realize you were using would start to ache. You knew.
There was nothing to be done about it at the time, though. The battle was all around and it needed to be fought. There was no time for a pause. No time to think about what the future would hold… or the recovery.
You celebrated each small step forward as though it were the finish line because if you thought about how far away the finish still was it would make you break down and you didn’t have the option of breaking down.
You kept slogging forward. You kept up your strength however you could; for you, that meant relying on your people. You told your people every. last. detail. Every interaction. Every glance. Every communication with attorneys. Every moment of waiting for news and every symptom of the tension and negative energy you were feeling, you talked about.
It was all you were able to talk about. You were so grateful to your people for allowing you to lean on them the way you did. You felt so guilty needing them as much as you did. You needed them anyway. You had to. There were no other options.
The name of the game was survival. And, finally, you made it through.
Your family and your friends begged you to get out of the house. They saw your sanity spiraling and becoming more and more tenuous and they saw how his behavior was impacting you. They begged. Repeatedly.
You couldn’t leave. At that point, you had multiple offers for free lodging from all your people but you couldn’t trust him with your property. He couldn’t be trusted with the house you still owned together. Not until there was a contract stating what you were owed and when, and you had the option of taking him to court if he did anything to jeopardize your financial situation. There was too much at stake. You needed to keep going.
Until the day came when you couldn’t take it anymore and you were SO CLOSE to having a signed agreement that you left. You put your belongings in storage and you took your cats and a few articles of clothing and you moved into your friend’s basement. She and her husband took you in.
You didn’t tell your ex you were leaving. You snuck out while he was at work and you never said goodbye. You hated that. You used to love him and you were never going to see him again. But you couldn’t say goodbye to him. He couldn’t be trusted to know when you were leaving.
You stayed in your friend’s basement for six weeks. You stayed there through the contract finally getting signed, through the buyout going through, through the purchase of your new condo getting finalized, and for a few weeks longer while you did some minor work on the condo before moving in.
You will never have the ability to express to your friends the massive amounts of gratitude you feel for them. You have to be okay with that. You have to try to convince yourself that they know, that you’ve told them and showed them to the best of your ability and that you will continue doing so until the day you die because you love them and are grateful to them to a degree that you will never fully feel you’ve been able to express.
Finally, you moved into your condo. You got your things out of storage. You unpacked. You settled in.
And then… you started to cry.
For about eight months, you cried and you slept and you finally felt all the things you hadn’t had the luxury of feeling for the many years preceding.
Finally, you broke down. You stopped talking about it as much. You stopped relying on your people and you stopped being there for them. You stopped talking much at all.
You stayed in your home, with the door closed and locked, and you recovered.
You nurtured your wounded soul the way one might baby a broken leg. You barely used it. You kept a cast on it. It was what you needed to do.
Until finally, a day came when you realized you were starting to feel like yourself again. You caught yourself laughing at something.
You made eye contact with a man on an elevator and you flirted a little.
You started having the energy to work out again.
You started becoming you again.
A year ago, you never dreamed of where you might be today. A year ago, you didn’t know what was in store.
Today, you look back on the past year, and you are so proud of the grace and strength with which you conquered it all.
You are one badass and you are not to be trifled with. But you are also human, and hurtful things hurt.
Still… you made it through. You are recovering.
And goddammit, girl. You rock.