At the end, it doesn't matter anymore, who did what to whom. The petty insecurities that tied me into knots have long since unraveled, and the gashes that were left across my heart have healed. They're tender yet, I've left off trying to pretend, even to myself, that they're not. I'd be doing myself a disservice to try and believe that I can be anything other than who and what I am, now.
Memory is a strange and wondrous thing, it gives the ability to start healing a wound, given enough time, and enough distance. Close proximity would have made it impossible, a fact which I couldn't actually grasp then. I'm only barely grasping it now, and that's only possible because now when I look at the circumstances, and at the memory, when I take it out of the box, I don't have a burning desire to be back in that place, and relive it. I don't want it anymore. It still hurts, yes, but not the screaming, blasting pain that it was. I'm not certain the dull ache will ever completely leave.
I can live with that. And some of the good memories remain, and that's enough. I can open the memory box, look, smile, and put it away. And move forward.
When the present finally started being something I embraced, instead of something I only tolerated because I had to get through the day was when I realized that I was healing, instead of surviving. I was no longer a victim of some invisible war with myself. And it felt good, to feel that, to know it. There are people who helped me get to this point, and I've thanked them, and will continue to draw on that support, because without them I wouldn't have made it, and I know that.
I'm not as strong as I thought I was. As strong as I'd always believed myself to be. And I am strong. The basic components that make me, me, are still intact, in spite of the damage, and having felt like I went through an emotional holocaust. I hope never to feel that way again, but I'm very much aware of the reality of life. That it might happen again.
With accepting new possibilities comes risk. Those risks are what make available the opportunity for the potential for such unimaginable reward. And to a certain extent I crave that. I miss the feeling of closeness with someone, of being held, and comforted and understood. Am I in a hurry to the possibility of pain? Of course not. But the companionship of that simple connection is what I missed most when my world exploded.
It wasn't the sex, it was the simple, easy connection of being understood and understanding someone who was my friend. Someone to while away the time doing mindless things, discussing random knowledge, and exchanging ideas. I *miss* that. And I cut myself off so completely from everyone, because I was too afraid to let anyone close, afterward. It hurt too much, and I was simply too scared.
The fear has receded. And finding myself again, albeit slowly, is beginning to make me like myself again. I feel as though the blades that went through my heart are clean, now, and only the scars remain.
And I know well, that even scars can become invisible given enough time. I've made a conscious effort recently to go out, to meet people, to try new things. To let others in, and explore myself more. Much the same way I attempted to explore myself when things ended with Danny and I, I'm cautiously finding my footing again.
It feels...I won't say good, but I will say better, to be me again. I like feeling this way.
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