Bad Ass

"I just want to feel better." 

I repeated these words over and over to my therapist the week after I asked X to move out. 

"I have to be honest, I don't know how you held on for so long without letting someone know what was going on."

The words from my therapist I will never forget. 

I had held on for so long. I held on to hope. I held on to shame. I held on to fear. 

And it had given me an extreme case of anxiety that was almost crippling. 

Not to mention the damage to my self esteem from staying in a toxic relationship for so long. 

Being constantly shown how little I was worth to the person I had pledged my life to. 

Being constantly quieted. 

Being told I was too much, but also never enough.  

And I had told exactly ZERO people what was happening in my life. 

I had known about some shady things for 4 years, and I just kept it to myself because of fear and shame and embarrassment. So I dealt with it alone. 

That is no way to live. 

But I wasn't even living by that point. 

I was existing and smiling and doing the things I was expected to do. 

When I finally broke and filed for divorce, people were SHOCKED. I was a good liar. I put on a good show, a happy face, a pretty picture. 

But I am here to tell you, the moment I made the choice to leave, I was free. 

I was terrified, but I was liberated. 

And I was ME again. 

I cannot begin to explain the satisfaction of moving out, finding my own place, paying my own bills, making my own choices. 

I never knew exactly how strong I could be. 

I never knew how much of myself I had lost. 

It's a weird feeling to be falling apart and coming back together all at once. 

But I am doing it. 

I'm no longer terrified. Only optimistic. 

Because I am a bad ass. 

I mean, I always have been, but now I feel it. 

Awkwardly Yours, 

Meg