Go Into The Light...at the end of the tunnel. I finally see it after over five years of devastation and utter darkness. I thought it would never end.
I thought I would spend the rest of my life in my pajamas eating chocolates and watching rented DVDs after being hassled by the Blockbuster guy to buy the monthly pass already. I thought I would have to keep making token gestures of moving on, like reading books that require my creating breakover decoupages to celebrate my uniqueness, getting makeovers by slick sales people who themselves look like they could use one and just want me to buy their stuff, going stag on vacation and to the beach and to swap meets and parties in order to placate my friends who just want me to be happy for Pete's sake. I never did accomplish the go-to-a-restaurant-by-myself thing. THAT would be weird. Are there support groups for survivors of support groups?
It turns out that all I really needed was my faith...and time. Time to talk to God. Time to talk to myself. Time to talk to the dog. Time to buy a cat. Time to think. Time to sit in the dark and cry. Time to sit and just stare. Time to sleep. Time to not sleep. Time to clean out my closets. Time to wander. Time to lick my wounds. Enough time to get sick and tired of being decadent and disgusting. Enough time to get fed up with feeling so lost. Enough time to get over the novelty of computer solitaire. TIME - the single word that's been occupying my magnetic poetry board since I lost my faculties.
It's hard to get over tragedy. It's really, really f#$%ing hard to get over a whole bunch of it. Alright, maybe I'm not okay yet, but I'm going to be. I'm going to get out of these pajamas one day. I don't want to live in fear anymore of going on with my life and making myself vulnerable to more hurt. It's not worth living in a cave, even if the cave is well-stocked. I'm going to live again if it kills me.
I'm making a break for it...WHO'S WITH ME?!?