Blog

Wounded

I broke tonight. I worked late on a project at the office and under the icy cold glare of the hydrogen lights I cried.

I am vulnerable.  I am new to my job.  I have no money, no ID, no long-term home or plans, and in a matter of days I'll be legally divorced, cutting off the last ties of my old life.

So who am I now?  Sometimes I feel more sure of myself than ever, and other days I am lost.  All of the things I used to cling to as my identity are falling through my fingers.  I wonder where that girl is sometimes.  The one who wanted a cooking show and a marriage.  The girl who grocery shopped on Friday, baked on Sundays, and felt like she had it all together.

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Now I have a life that fits into a suitcase, tattoos for jewelry and some borrowed cash in my pocket.  My only consistent routine is grabbing a coffee on my way to work and blasting music in my headphones on the walk there and back.

I'm still figuring out who I am and what I want.  After thinking I had it figured out for so long it scares the crap out of me.

This weekend I had a small dagger tattooed on my ankle.  I laughed that I had no reason behind it, but I do love how knives represent cutting free from material needs or what no longer serve you.

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I have chosen this life.  I don't feel sorry for myself.  But I also have to accept that some of these wounds run deep.  You can pack your bags and leave everything behind but you always take the emotions with you.

It will take time but eventually I'll be able to step back and see how good this all is.  Maybe I'll even find out that cutting myself free was the closest I've ever really gotten to knowing myself.

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At what moment does the knife wound sink so deep that the flesh begins to weep with love? -Anais Nin