I wrote this whole expose and sat with it for a few hours and erased it. Why? 

I'll tell you why; it's because none of what I wrote really makes a hill of difference. If I write what I'm feeling and don't say it to the people who need to hear it, then I'm just passive-aggressively writing empty speeches to deaf ears. 

What's the point of that? No one wants to read that anyway. 

If I write only good things then that only reveals half the story. What good is a story if you gloss over all the meaty bits? Nothing is learned. Nothing is achieved. Nothing is challenged. You come away feeling mushy and great and there's no point in that either. 

There are things I want to write; out loud. Things I want to say, to shout from the rooftops and imaginary borderlines that only exist in my mind. Lord knows, there are others who've got no problem naming the things that have hurt them and what they've learned and how they've grown from accepting the truth of things left unsaid.

A part of me wonders if in some small way, it would help someone else who may be experiencing the emotional unwinding that I find myself unraveling as of late. Another part of me thinks that in sharing the junk, people will think I'm just a tattle-tale spouting, "Look, what was done to me! Ha, ha! See?" 

It's petty to share the misgivings and unfortunate ways in which important relationships disavowed me, and I honestly understand why they behaved the way they did. They didn't know any better and until they do, it doesn't matter what was said or how it was said or who said what. 

The point of everything is moving on and residing in a space where I feel safe and nurtured. That space only exists because I've created it. I've done the work required, and I'm not interested in going back to a time when I was easily manipulated. 

I know my worth and I know who I am and what I am about. What someone else thinks or does or how they feel about it or respond to it, is theirs. I'm not picking it up. I'm not asking for them to change. I'm asking for acceptance of who I have become, when I became the healthier version of me. 

She's different than the Jess they knew. She is stronger in ways that took a long time to acquire, through meaningful hard moments of grief and gut-wrenching work. She isn't quiet. She isn't afraid. She speaks up for herself and she doesn't allow disrespect. 

No amount of yelling, name-calling, accusing, or manipulation is going to get her to do anything she doesn't feel aligns with her values. It's fun to talk in the third person, but I digress. I am not who I was and I'm not going back there. 

These last few years ... 10? 5? 3? 1? So, incredibly eye-opening and heart-breaking and yet, I am still here; still standing, still going, still praising, still me, just better. Those that understand the struggle, see the work I've put in and everyone else? Who cares? I don't. I've got nothing to prove to anyone. 

This is for those of us who keep showing up for ourselves even when it didn't feel there was a way through. The sun is out, the clouds are open, the sky is blue and the warmth is shining upon us. 

Grief takes time--more than you want to give it--but trust me, you can get through it. What a blessing to come out from the other side and to no longer hold the weight of the things we held for decades underneath bitter shame and self-abandonment. 

My hope is that if you relate, you take the time now. Don't wait until your blood vessels decide they've had enough fight or flight and you stroke out. (LOL) Take the time now. Be nice to yourself now. 

Do the things that make your heart sing. Dance, cuddle your babies, bake the bread, eat the bread, the cake, pet the pooch, create art, plant more seeds, completely and with abandon love your life and yourself. Make time now for friends and coffee dates and the best Mexican food and to smell the flowers. Go see the things and experience it all.

Horses say neigh and the naysayers are gonna nay! There's no reason to let the fear stop you. Fear is just a temporary place to hold the worry. 

There. 

I feel as though I've arrived in a beautiful space where I'm available to appreciate and see the seeds I planted bloom out. And in all of it--the good, the bad, the ugly, the incredibly disappointing and sad--still a life worth writing about and a God worth praising.

Here's to second chances, do-overs, make-ups, and moving on in our beautifully-messy, fuller lives. We got this.