Time is a Strange and Illusive Thing

Time is a strange and illusive thing. A year ago, all I could feel was death and loss. My heart was breaking because I thought divorce was the worst thing that could ever happened to me. I had committed my life to someone. I had given him my heart and it wasn’t working out. I did everything I knew to do and it was still dying.

A year ago I didn’t know how much that relationship was costing me. I now know that I was fighting for someone who wasn’t also fighting. I now know that the death of that marriage gave way to the rebirth to my individuality. I now know how powerful my individuality is.

Yes, the divorce was a death of sorts. The death of hopes and dreams that I had built around another person. The death of the story that I was telling myself. The mythology of “us”. The death was in realizing that it was all a myth. So much of my identity hung on that story. So much of who I was was wrapped around that myth.

I look back now and I see that version of myself almost like a contortionist – fitting myself into a tiny box or really any shape I needed to be in order for “us” to keep working. I spent so much energy trying to figure out what shape I needed to become so I could keep our marriage alive… the myth alive.

But time has passed. The pain feels like it was yesterday and a million years ago all at once. A year has come and gone and I’m not in anyone’s box. I am free form. I’ve developed confidence in my own ability to survive, learn, adapt, and move on. Which means no matter what happens, deep down I know I’ll be ok. I’m deeply independent and fiercely confident.

Time is a strange and illusive thing. One measly year and I’ve come so far.

I am not who I was a year ago.

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