So why can’t we all just get out of our own heads for five minutes and see what is really going on? Why does it take years, time in abundance before we are able to see a situation clearly? And even then, do we really see it clearly or do we just impose our own desires for closure on our memories?

Love is such a tricky thing. When we are with one someone, we are so sure we have love and we tell them over and over, as if it is a toy for our tongue to toss around. I love you whispered in your ear, I love you shouted out the car window, I love you before the phone goes dead.

But when that one someone is gone, and time occupies all spaces, making the memories distant and heartbreak healed, we begin to doubt the love we were once so sure of. That is such a strange feeling….to realize with time that the relationship you were living was an idea, not a reality.

I loved Walter terribly but I’ve come to convince myself that I knew all along we were doomed. My most treasured memories of our relationship go something like this: I woke up before him on a Sunday morning and curled into him, tickling him gently and watching him wake with a smile. He opened his eyes saying, “Jaaaacck!” We kissed then wrestled to the floor where we would often fall asleep for a few more hours.

I spent the last 20 minutes trying to write down the moment I look back on and define as the beginning of the end but I can’t do it, it’s a terrible memory. The point is that at the time, it made sense to try to make our relationship work for another few months, and when I look back, it is in this moment that I should have walked away.

I’ve spent most of my life surviving…the house I grew up in and being raped combined to make me rather unable or unwilling to address my own feelings. Doing so meant I opened the door to feeling hurt, used, unappreciated, on and on. But now that door is open and I feel amazing, it just means that things I pushed down a long time ago are bubbling up to the surface to be felt.

I feel like I’ve been writing superficial posts lately but its only because my mind has been occupied by all of this. The other day, for the first time in 6 years, I thought about how alone I felt when I was raped. I guess I had never let myself feel that before.

Alright, enough. Life is good. I feel strong. I am not alone, just single which sucks but that’s life :-)

Not sure this post makes sense...