It is not what most people consider a dream home, but it is mine.
The house is 108 years old. The wooden floors creak under my feet. Cold drafts always seem to find my toes. Compared to our first house, this one is a mansion. An old, old mansion that has been almost untouched by time. The Mr. doesn't like to talk about ghosts, but I feel comforted by the possibility of their presence. They haunt this house as I haunt myself.
...
Molly makes me laugh now.
It took two years to tear down that wall I erected between us, but now only a few pieces remain like jagged teeth. I still can't cry in front of her, so she cries for me. She is a breath when I cannot breathe. She is a warrior when I cannot fight.
I never thought it possible to consider a therapist as a friend.
...
I stopped weighing myself every day. I don't know when. It crept up on me, slowly slipping away when my back was turned. I seem like a normal human being when I eat, and sometimes I even fool myself.
Fragile. I am walking on glass. I am ok, but I'm not foolish enough to believe I am safe from myself. It would be so easy to fall.
...
"Let's make a baby." I whispered to the Mr. one dark night.
I was confident then, in that precious tiny moment. In the many days since, I have fallen apart over and over again. What was I thinking? I can't. I shouldn't. I won't. I wish...
The Mr. of course went straight to work devising a plan. "We could start trying this coming spring." He finally says as we walk through the park. He is smiling, looking at me, waiting for me to be excited.
I try to smile, but I want to be sick. What was I thinking? I can't. I shouldn't. I won't. I wish...
...
I am afraid that my life is looking perfect these days, and it nags at me like a sharp stick in my side. I am not that person. I am not put together. Did I create her again? That perfect shell who smiles in pictures and tries to make people laugh? Did I bring her back? Am I selfish? Or am I hiding?
I don't know.
I see people hurting and I want to grab their hand. I want to say, I know. I want to say, you are not alone. But here I am full circle once again. Would they believe me? Or would they shrug me off as just another person who repeats "I understand" because they don't know what else to say?
I don't know.
So C and M, if you are here, this is me trying to say, I know. Not everything, of course. But I know parts of your struggle far too well. I won't lie, things are ugly here, but they're honest. I'd like to say I barely recognize the girl who started this blog, but I still see her from time to time. I am not perfect.
But I am living.
