I am good with words. I always have been, even when I wasn't aware of it. Most of the time I can describe how I feel, even when it seems impossible to do so. I had a Hello Kitty diary at age 7, and a journal for writing poems by age 8. Give me a pen or pencil, and I could put down on paper what was going on in my head or heart.
But these days, I am at a loss. I don't know where to begin. Or what to write. I'm full of emotions, words, feelings, questions, statements, aches.....
I'm taking a journey I never thought I would. And honestly? I'm scared. Not because I don't think I will be okay, but because I just don't know what is around the bend.
I make it through my days. I stay up late, avoiding sleep, but at the same time yearning for it. It is when I am finally lying beneath my sheets that I feel the rawness of my life the last 9 months or so. I ache. I am exhausted. I can't even cry anymore. I can't even pray most nights. There's a hum coursing through my body. My life is shattered in pieces, scattered carelessly on the floor. Tossed away.
So. The beginning?
I'm getting divorced.
I'm actually not sure if that is the beginning or the end. It just *is*.
I will write about it. I will stumble over my words, struggle with my emotions, and try to find some peace in my life. I will sound like I have it all together. I will sound like I'm falling apart. I will be happy, relieved, content. I will be frightened, angry, crushed. I will be temperamental, depressed, yet confident.
I will continue to be a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend. I will pick up these pieces scattered on the floor, and rebuild myself: stronger, happier, more confident, at peace. I will continue to hope, continue to pray, continue to wish for a fantastic life, a beautiful love, a kind, gentle, & like-minded partner, and more babies.
I will not give up.