A Taste of Hope


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Writing before helped, so I think I will write again. If you’re joining me for the first time, I am in the midst of a personal crisis. I had a nice, cozy little world and it turns out it was all a sham. I am in the middle of deciding if I should leave my long term boyfriend or if I should learn how to get over the wrongs that have been done which cannot be undone.

I did some self prescribed art therapy today, almost 6 hours worth, and have a beautiful new piece to add to my collection. The medication my doctor prescribed me is starting to work, I think, but she says I need to give it a good while until I see the full benefits. I didn’t waller in my bed like a pig in a pen, crying all day. I turned up the music, opened the windows, and was actually able to focus on my painting. It was amazing, for some time the clouds have lifted and I could see the sunshine with my soul.

The music came through me, the wind blowing through the house inspired me, and the paint brushes took on a life of their own. My spirit danced for the first time since February. It was lovely. I forgot to eat, I was so elated. Then I heard tires in the driveway and realized what time it was. And for the first time in months, my heart didn’t sink. I smiled all the way through dinner, staring at the artwork I had created. I even did the dishes after cooking dinner. And dinner was GOOD. It actually tasted good.

I’m still at a crossroads, but now I am aware that my soul was not completely broken. She still exists deep inside me; she was just overshadowed by a broken heart. Tonight, I sit here writing my own little voyeuristic journal entry, he sits in his recliner watching TV, with no interest as to what I am doing. I know for sure he thinks this is over, but between you and me I don’t think it is. I think it is just beginning.

I will see how tomorrow goes, and I hope my soul makes a reappearance and dances in her glory. I may take a drive for inspiration; the mountains are so pretty this time of year. And it’s wildflower season! I wonder if it is healthy to put things out of my mind for the most part, but it seems like dwelling on them has done nothing but torture my essence.

Life is one big chess game, and I need to really think about my next move. I’ve run out of pawns, and I don’t want to lose this one. Not this time. Never. If I don’t go down swinging and fighting, I will have failed myself. This is a thought I have had since childhood. I’m a fighter; I’ve proven I can survive the worst of storms. I just don’t know what to do next. I think I will just play it by ear, and sleep peacefully tonight knowing that I let my soul dance free today. I’m satisfied. It’s been so long since I was satisfied.

As always, thank you for reading.

 

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3 thoughts on “A Taste of Hope

  1. The question isn’t whether you should leave or you should stay. The question is whether you’re staying because you’re afraid you won’t find someone else, or because you really love him and you think you guys can work through this. If it’s the latter, stay. But if it’s the former, you need to leave. It will be scary. It will suck. But you need to find the courage to do it, because if you don’t know you’ll have to eventually anyway, and it will just be worse.

  2. I do honestly love him, I am just deeply hurt by his actions and I don’t know if time is going to heal this wound. I’d like to work it out, and I am not afraid of being alone (the single life has been tempting before)… I’m just at a crossroads and am hmm-hawing about what the future holds. It may hurt worse in the long run, but it may feel better too. Today gave me hope for tomorrow. Time will tell.

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