Once the waves of emotion stopped coming on so strong, I finally took a real breath. 

“I-I am s-s-so incredib-dib-dibly -s-s-sssoorrorry. I-I ammmm s-s-so sorority. P-Pl-Pleeeeaaaseeasse f-f-forgi-gi-give mmmeeee. I-I-I ammmm s-s-so sssssororrorryy.” I sobbed the words over and over while I gasped for air. 
Two hours. That’s how long it took for my body to finally stop shaking, stop stuttering, and stop sobbing. I clung to our new puppy, sobbing uncontrollably. 

Everything I’ve done wrong in the past few weeks slapping me in the face and squeezing the life out of me slowly. 
Failures as a mother, wife, and person came flooding in and it took so much out of me. Like waves crashing over and over. I would start to settle down and feel calm, and then it all would come flooding back. The unnecessary “no”s to the kids, the irrational anger at the husband, battling being sick and having no strength, having to miss work and sleep so much yet not be rested. It was too much. 

I called a good friend, because I didn’t want to call my husband and make him upset. He is an amazing man, just not good with the anxiety issues and heightened emotions. “Hello? What is wrong?” And it all poured out. The stutters, the sobs, the thoughts-all of it. She got me mostly calm. I had a deep breaths and words of encouragement. 

Once we got off the phone the husband called, and he did his best. I couldn’t stop. I clung to the puppy once more. Apologizing to him, to the universe, and to myself. I cried out in so much pain. So much anger and sadness and negativity. So overwhelmed. 

Once the waves of emotion stopped coming on so strong, I finally took a real breath. My eyes were poofy. My face hurt-my heart and soul hurt even more. I was a wreck. I documented it. Needed to. Because others need to know they are not alone. Those hopeless and helpless feelings. The breakdown. This is what real life and real truths looks like. 

To authentically be yourself you must feel everything. Everything. This is part of me. Hopefully as I begin to feel each emotion as they come, and not wait until it builds up- the intensity of those moments lessen in length. 
The very first time this happened, I was at the clinic for a follow up appointment for the miscarriage. I went into the restroom, and for some reason when I came out I required a wheelchair. I was stuttering uncontrollably and my entire body shook with intensity. They took me to the emergency room, and it took 5 hours, and a muscle relaxer to get my body and stutter under control. 5 hours I laid there shaking, stuttering, and crying.

They told me it was a severe migraine that provided stroke like symptoms-but I did not suffer a stroke. It was terrifying. For 5 hours I didn’t know what was happening to me and I had no control over my body. 

Believe it or not, this last time was reassuring. It only lasted 2 hours! And I didn’t need a muscle relaxer, I needed to work through it all. 

As parents, we are really hard on ourselves. Whether we were too tired to do their Reading activity for the night, or feel guilty for telling them they were just horrible (while trying to play referee and drive safely at the same time). 

As spouses or partners, we are also hard on ourselves. For not being as intimate as you feel you should/as you want to be. For being too exhausted from every day life to have a real conversation. For missing the “old days” when you couldn’t keep your hands off each other or go a minute without wanting to talk with them. And the guilt of holding in the little things that have begun to bother you-only to explode and bring it all out later in an unrelated situation. (We all do if I think at some point!) 

As human beings, we put a lot of pressure and expectations on ourselves. Guilt for liking something that isn’t the norm. Searching for approval from others and not even realizing it. Awakening to new things and feeling alone (which your are definitely not). Even our body appearance weighs on the mind in different ways. 

I was feeling guilt for all of the above, and for just being exhausted. I had pushed my limit to make others happy, and it really backfired, and I believe that’s also why I got as sick as I did. 

After I took my time, calmed down, and really got in tune with what I wanted and needed-I got to work. I mean I really looked at myself hard and got going on things that would be easy changes. 
But that’s inspiration for the next time we meet. Have you had any of the guilt described above? Does this picture remind you of days you have had? Unfiltered, poofy, and vulnerable? 

Since the couple months that followed, it has never been spoken of again. Until now.

A lifetime ago. That’s what it feels like. As if I had been a completely different person. Since the couple months that followed, it has never been spoken of again. Until now.

Before I met my now husband, I was not always making good life choices. When I didn’t have my daughter, and she was with her natural dad, I would go to the bar. If I didn’t have to work the next day, I would stay at the bar until it closed. I didn’t know what to do if I wasn’t being a Mom. So I would get drunk, and then walk the couple blocks home. Every time.

See what I mean? A lifetime ago. Yet it’s only been 6 years ago. Strange feeling.

Moving on. There was one specific night. Started out the same as every other night. I intended to drink, go home, and get to sleep. I was out with a friend. I remember shots and drinks- in bits and pieces. I remember she walked me home. I remember him walking along side us. I have flashes in between of laughter and stumbling. I remember him saying he needed a place to stay and I offered our couch. My roommate was at her overnight job, but it would be fine. The couch was downstairs and he’d just pass out anyway.

I don’t remember throwing up, but I remember my friend cleaning it up and getting me out of my thrown up on clothes. I remember her tucking me in. I remember I forgot the stranger downstairs on the couch.

Then the memories become clearer, although still spotty. Even writing this now it makes my skin hurt. I remember yelling for him to stop, but being too drunk to actually be able to move. I remember crying. After he was done, I remember him seeing a picture of my roommate and best friend. He asked how I knew them, and I told him she lived with me and he was my best friend.

I remember he bolted and told me not to tell anyone he was there. To be honest I don’t remember his name. I either blocked it out, or forgot. But I remember crying on my porch, smoking cigarette after cigarette. I remember calling my daughter’s dad, who I thought was my friend at the time. I remember sobbing into the phone to my roommate, my birth Mom and my best friend. “Do NOT shower. I know you want to but do NOT shower.” I remember my roommate repeating those words over and over to me. Texting me constantly.

I paused writing this just now. I shake, and although I feel on the brink of crying, I do not. I’m not sure why. I haven’t shared this since it’s been long gone. I haven’t spoken out, or put it in writing. I haven’t wanted to. It’s easier to pretend. To be normal. To be just like everyone else.

I remember the hospital in pieces. I remember the man and woman who came to talk to me. The police. I remember the news article. The comments. “She got too drunk. She deserved it.” “What was she wearing? I bet she asked for it.” “Is she sure she actually said no?” “Why didn’t she just fight harder?” My friends told me to stay away from reading it. To ignore the comments and remember they don’t know me. But those comments mixed in with my own thoughts, and the line between what they thought, and what I thought to myself blurred.

My best friend blamed himself for a while. He slept on our couch for weeks. My protector. My eyes stayed to the floor most days. I didn’t want people to see me. Showering wasn’t enough. I scrubbed and cried and scrubbed. Nothing worked. It was like each time someone looked at me they knew. They saw right through my clothes. Saw the dirt I couldn’t wash away. Saw the gross parts of me I couldn’t cry away.

I remember the day the man and woman called me to the police station. I remember them saying if we went to court, I would have to testify, and we would probably lose. I remember being ashamed at their reasoning. “He didn’t physically hold you down, or leave marks on your body, so we can’t prove that you resisted.” I was too drunk to move, he didn’t have to hold me down. So I guess that made it okay in the eyes of the legal system. I remember feeling ashamed. Feeling as if I was weak, and let my daughter down as a human being, and as a Mother.

I remember the message I got from someone who spoke with my ex. “He told me what happened to you and I laughed so hard. You deserved it.” Until today, I have hated that person with every fiber and energy I can possess. I have hated her and secretly wept for those words that cut so deep. Out of all the comments on the article, and the rumors, and my own thoughts about myself at that time-Those words have stuck with me. Because of these words I harbored so much anger towards this person. Even writing about those words right now makes my body tense up, and I can feel the anger rising inside.

But that’s all they are. Words. It took this one wax tear during my reflection time today to make me realize this. I need to let it go. What happened was painful. Things that were said were painful. But if I do not wish for my true and present self to be held and judged for my past self- then why should I do that to others? What makes me any different than her?

I relax as I finish this post. I feel a sense of true release. I may not see eye to eye with this woman, and we may never truly get along. But is that really my responsibility to decide? No. It’s not. I forgive them. I forgive the man who raped me. I forgive those commenters that didn’t truly know anything other than what the newspaper journalist wrote. I forgive this woman. I forgive those words. More importantly, I forgive myself for holding on for so long. I release them. In light of the new moon, I release all of this old, and harbored, and hidden energy, and I open my heart, and my soul to what’s to come. I release it all.

It feels like a new day. It feels like a new beginning. Something big is coming. Although I’m not sure what it is. I know it will be magical, and I know that in letting this go, I will be ready. Accept and Release. I intend to forgive the past, and those in it, as I do not hold the right to hold them in judgment for their past selves or for any other reasons. There is an opportunity here. A new life in a way. I intend to take it and make something beautiful with it.

All thanks to a single candle wax tear from a reflection time. I asked for a sign to what I can do to serve my higher self and this new moon. I received a candle wax tear in the physical, and absolute release within. Although the actual release will take some time, I already feel lighter, and brighter.

Love to you all.