Lost and Found - An Open Letter
To Whom It May Concern:
Dear you; yes you.
Can I tell you what's really been burning my cookies? And if you know me, you know I hate a burnt baked good. It's things like this:
"How are you, really?"
"You can't be okay."
"You need to spend time alone."
Statements and questions like this color my life now. My "post-marriage" existence has caused nearly every person close enough to me to lodge an opinion to become a pseudo-therapist.
Which begs the question for me, why do we choose to live our lives like puzzle pieces? Searching for our other halves? Acting as though when a relationship collapses there should be some emotional or physical ruin left in the wake of it all; are breakups the new natural disaster? And can I get on the ground floor of its insurance industry? Netflix and wine to the rescue, anyone? I've got to remember to trademark that when I finish writing this.
The fact is that I am, indeed, okay.
The fact is that more than that I am revived.
Resurrected if you will.
You see, that idea, that another person completes you, that is a dangerous way to live in my book.
Do not be fooled into thinking that I did not cry my tears. I did. But just like that word, it's past tense. I'm all about the fight. I am not geared or predisposed in any way to prolonged wallowing.
The time to ask if I was okay is when I smiled through the grit, the sheer exhaustion of keeping up a sham.
And far too many of us do it. Our window lives, smiling for Instagram, tweets, likes, reblogs, it leads us all to being false in some sense of the word.
The time to wonder if I could really be alright has passed. As hard as it may be for some to conceptualize, there are some of us who process before we ever act. I am counted in that number. I always look before I leap.
And so I do not, in fact, need you to tell me that I can't be okay.
I can and I am.
You can be too.
The minute you realize that you don't have to stay where you are.
When you decide to shake the dust off and charge again.
When something in you strikes the well of restless refusal to say die.
No ashes, no phoenix, sweetheart.
So when you decide that you are no longer lost, but instead find you've been right there all along, join me. And we can flip the bird to the Dr. Phils of the world together.
A Beautiful Disaster