February wasn’t mine. And, even though it can be so tough to put your life on the shelf to help someone else, it was a blessing for me.

As someone who lives in their heart OR head all the time, I’ve become very aware that my goal should be to allow these two parts to simultaneously work together. That being said, it’s not a natural gift I’ve been given. Or, maybe, it’s one I lost so long ago I can’t remember. But February came, and it brought with it the opportunity to reconnect these two pieces.

Earlier this year I withheld (from here) a piece of my life, explaining that it wasn’t my story to tell. I still stand by that statement. But my February revelations are directly correlated to these events, so please excuse my ambiguity as I do my best to detail my semi-triumphant journey.

Having to step outside of my own process, to cancel much-needed therapy appointments (because they weren’t a top priority), to spend every free moment I could taking care of someone else’s world, well, it shifted around a lot of what was happening inside of me. My life didn’t matter so much anymore, and lifting that veil for long enough to breathe made me realize that something had to give. I needed to open my heart to someone else, and I needed to use my brain to figure out how to juggle my already-standing and new-found responsibilities. Meanwhile, I also needed my head to identify when I was feeling too overwhelmed by everything, and when I needed to leave to preserve the progress I’d already made AND be certain I wasn’t hindering the healing process of others.

But through this, through every painful and confusing moment, I realized that it could be done and that my pain was mangable. I realized that I wasn’t PTSD (even though I suffered, and still very much do, suffer from it). And through these revelations, my heart felt lighter.

Don’t get me wrong, February was easily one of the hardest months of my life (definitely the hardest sans rebuilding, after leaving Mike). It’s not that I’m happy any of this happened. If I could rewind this year, all the way back to January 1st, I would do it without hesitation. What has happened to those I love is cruel and unfair and causes long-lasting agony. I’m not thrilled that I’ve learned the lessons that I have, but when we’re trying to move forward we have to see silver lining, especially when nothing seems to make sense. The lessons I’ve learned from it happened so quickly, and I think the reason for that is this:

If we can rebound from such tragic, such unnecessary and unfair pain, then I can rebound from something I saw as permanent, too. Before February, I saw myself as a person who could only fake changes. One whose brain would always drive her to do things that were safest, and one whose heart would always lead her down destructive paths.

After so much heartbreak and so many trials in my personal life (including those that I felt nobody understood), I simply didn’t trust myself to be able to fix problems and create opportunity. And now I do.

February served as a starting point (and a HUGE month),  but March brought more.


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