Not for Nothing

I used to spend a lot of time worrying that moving on and being okay would somehow invalidate everything I've been through or negate all the hard work I've had to put in to get to where I am. I had this fear that if I could get to being okay, it might mean that what happened to me wasn't that big of a deal after all. But the more time that passes, the more my heart heals, the more I'm understanding that the opposite is true. I'm not the same person I was. I'm stronger, braver, and more self-aware than I've ever been. I've wrestled with varying degrees of anxiety, panic, self-injury, suicidal ideation, betrayal, grief, and the deepest heartache; and I've walked away stronger. I've even been told that I look and sound different.

Objectively, my ex-husband's affair was a very big deal. It was a trauma; one that I genuinely thought was going to kill me. Just because divorce is common doesn't mean it's not a big deal. It leaves nothing untouched and comes with its own specific renditions of breaking and pain and grief. Regardless of the circumstances, it's devastating.

AND, (I'm learning to replace my "buts" with "ands" to hold space for more than one true thing at a time).

I'm still here. Standing taller than I ever have. Having more good days than bad ones. Confident. Loving myself. Feeling proud of who I am and how hard I fought to get here. Almost entirely anxiety-free (which I never thought I'd be able to say). Healing. Happy. Hopeful.

Very few people are going to really understand the extent of what I've been through, and I'm learning to be okay with that. The control freak in me really struggles with the reality that people are going to make assumptions and draw their own conclusions when they learn that I'm divorced. I feel this constant, frantic need to explain, fueled by the fear that being divorced reflects poorly on me. (Cue the inevitable downward spiral that is oversharing and never not awkward). But I'm learning to let go of what's not mine to hold and to hold loosely to what I can't control. I'm humbled again and again by how true it is that other people's opinions of me are none of my business. The people closest to me know, and that's all that matters.

For a long time, I had to keep telling myself over and over that "I can do this." Eventually, that became "I am doing this." Now I'm beginning to feel the shift toward "I did it."

I did the thing I thought was impossible. And it wasn't for nothing.

Thoughts on Forgiveness

Sometimes forgiveness is simple.
Sometimes it can be hard and fast and over before you even have to think about it.
But sometimes it's not simple.
Sometimes the thing you're trying to forgive feels too big to even acknowledge, let alone afford the conscious thought required to process it.
Sometimes forgiveness is complicated by too many moving parts.
How do you forgive what doesn't change?
How do you forgive the person who isn't sorry they hurt you?

I'm learning that it's okay to forgive in parts when forgiving all at once feels impossible. Healing occurs gradually and in stages. Forgiveness can, too.

I'm learning that sometimes forgiveness has to be fluid. You choose it and you keep choosing it because at the end of the day, you're only human. But maybe one day you choose it, and the next you feel so much that it seems impossible again. Two steps forward, one step back is 1,000% an an acceptable model, because emotions are hard and feelings are valid and "pain demands to be felt*."

I'm also learning that forgiveness is for me more than it is for anyone else. For so long, I resisted; in part because forgiving something this big felt like letting them off easy, or like I was doing them a favor. It felt like self-betrayal. But recently, I've begun to truly appreciate what it means when they say that to withhold forgiveness is like swallowing poison and and waiting for the other person to die. It's been costing me. Whereas to forgive, to let it all go, and to move forward without any of this holding me back or weighing me down feels like the best gift I could ever give myself.

And so slowly, clumsily, I'm learning how to dance this particular dance.
Always to the tune of grace (upon grace, upon grace, upon grace).
In the name of healing;
In the name of moving forward;
And in the name of freedom.


*John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

2018

Historically, I've never been all that into celebrating New Years, mostly because I've never had anything cool to do. But the last couple of years have me appreciating the symbolism now more than ever. I love the idea of celebrating the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another, of reflecting on the past and looking to the future. I love the newness and the possibility. The proverbial blank slate.

In my blog post from last New Years Eve, I wrote the following:

To me, 2017 is full of possibilities and trips and bucket list check marks because I desperately need it to be. I need to believe that 2017 can be better because I can't imagine how it can possibly be worse. Every day I'm fighting and clinging so tightly to hope that it hurts, and I need the newness, even if it's simply buying a new day planner and training my brain to write a 7 instead of a 6.

This year is about healing and taking good care of me. It's about challenging myself and putting myself out there and doing things I've always wanted to do, because why not? If not now, when? Right now, so much of this new year is a giant question mark. The only things I know for sure are the very few plans I've made, which is just the way of it, but it's still completely terrifying. I have no idea how a lot of things are going to shake out. So many things that I entered 2016 believing to be true have turned out otherwise. As necessary as the newness of 2017 feels, the uncertainty of it makes my head spin. (12.31.16)

2017 was the year I fought for. At some point I started referring to it as the Year of Kaila. It was a year of firsts and achieving goals and traveling the world. It was also a year of breaking and healing; a year of feeling, of exploring my deepest and messiest places and learning how to love them. It was a year marked by hope and self-care. A long and grueling journey through pain, heartache, grief, rage and a million other things; and learning how to begin to forgive the seemingly unforgivable.

It was a year of doing impossible things.

I am so grateful for the contrast between this New Years and last. Where 2017 began full of heartache and fear and uncertainty, 2018 has begun with feeling ready for whatever's next. Where last year was about healing, this year is about reclaiming: Truth. Identity. Self-worth. Confidence. JOY. Life to the fullest, and a future that's mine to create.

I'm making it mine. I'm making my own rules and I'm making them up as I go.

2018 is about freedom; recklessly pursuing, maintaining, and guarding it. It will be a year of adventures and #yolo and trying new things and carpe diem. Of traveling the world. Of setting goals and achieving them.

2018 is living my best life and becoming my best self.

So, cheers to contrast; and to what's new and what's next.