When I was 21- the age where most people are in college and or, partying their asses off….so was I, for about three weeks. And then I found out I was pregnant with Maddi, and life changed. Oh. My. God. Did life change.
And I was happy-
But Maddis dad left.
So I was sad.
Oh. My. God. So F’n sad.
And desperate. That too.
I wanted the perfect family. The man I loved (because I didn’t know better) and my new baby.
So. Wanting that.
It almost killed me. The lack and the fear and the sadness. Grief that broken hearts illicit is so damn deep to the core. Your blood just turns to pain and your heart beats 1000 broken aches a minute. Maybe 1000 a second.
This is how I feel most things.
And it will eat at me until I’m unrecognizable. Like this situation that I’m in now. This situation that was “supposed” to change my life.
And it did.
One really big change- and much gratitude, my fiancé.
But there has been pain.
Yes. THAT much pain.
For a year now.
And changes that I didn’t want to make.
That I shouldn’t have made.
So. Much. Sadness.
Today it occurred to me-
How I survived that era of 21 and beyond.
I had family. Like now.
And I had a child.
Now I have 3.
And I had spite.
Yep. Spite. I woke up one day and said, I’m going to do this to spite you.
In spite of you.
Don’t knock it. Spite saved my life. It got me going. It made me better. And I’ve tried the other way. The compassionate, more….”loving” way. But you can’t love a solution into a problem when the other person(s) can’t love at all.
It is said that you have to be the bigger, better person.
I think I’ve just opted to interpret that in a new way.