How appropriate that just about 10 years later, I would find old writing with a cup of coffee still in hand.
10 years
3 dogs
1 child
1 divorce
6 moves
4 cities
1 partner
I often have a desire to write, to process experiences through adjectives, similes, and metaphors, to find the symbolism and over analyze, yet I have also avoided it because of fear. Ten years ago I was evading the trauma that was ironically, 20 years in the making. I thought an escape through marriage to a foreign city would allow me to reinvent myself and become "ok" and "fine." Clearly this was not the case.
Turns out, I was and often still am afraid to just be me because I don't know who I am, and I fear the rejection that comes with being me.
Recently my child was looking through the few items still left in my childhood bedroom that were actually mine. She found a skull and bones necklace, which she quickly claimed as her own and proudly wears with every outfit. Later in the day, we visited my partner's mom, whom A proudly showed off her newfound necklace.
"Oh, that must have been from your goth phase."
Actually, I had a pirate phase.
A long ago dream of sailing the ocean blue,
with confidence and strength,
nautical knowledge and a strong desire for adventure,
the ability to deftly maneuver the sails, anticipate the rolling waves.
