Hello Dear Reader,
Had a hair appointment today, and was talking to my long time bestest hair stylist about the 'broken doll' syndrome and going back to work feeling all the discomfort of knowing that folks will wonder how broken I am - just a bit or a whole lot? She snorted and said, "You aren't broken, you should be called Braveheart".
"Hell yeah", I said. "Hell, yeah!" It's been a decade, not just a year or two, of constant, almost unrelenting poundings. It's not the suffering Olympics, my youngest is fond of reminding me. But if it was, we'd be at least in the Canadian Nationals.
The cardiologist last year told me that I couldn't expect to get better because I was living in a war zone. How dramatic is that I thought... but then, well.
Cancer, Bipolar Disorder, Gambling, Anxiety, panic attacks, brain fog, Grief, Loss, PTSD, Concussions, Menopause, hearing loss, catfishing, stiff heart syndrome, broken bones, broken hearts, blame, anger, screaming, yelling, retreating, crying. These were all the ingredients in our home, in our refuge from the demands of life, of work.
I've finally pulled myself out of that war zone and created a little happy place. I'll be working for many more years than I planned. I won't have my hoped for retirement - winters in Mexico! Horses! Cottage! But eventually I'll have some version of it. And, have met new friends along the way to add to my trusted old friends.
And, more than that, I'm going to wear this like a Badge of Honour. I started to crack badly at work - the chaos, the deep fear that our separation would push FH too far and cost him everything added to a busy and demanding time with a high-vis project culminating on the exact day of our separation. All that guilt. All that fear. All that pressure on one stupid day. I still delivered, with the help of great colleagues. The project was a success.
The cost though, the cost was real psychological damage. But it really was that last tiny little straw placed on a huge pile that had been breaking my back for years. Just like so many others with worse stories to tell, I have been through it. But, I am OUT the other side. Something I didn't think possible in 2021. Feeling more myself than I have in years and years. More confident in my abilities, in my heart, in me.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also plagued with insecurities about how firm the ground I am standing on is. Whether I am still too fragile to withstand any big bumps in the night, so I am going to take my time.
But I am also going to own this. I'm not broken, I've been through my fire. I'm out the other side.
Braveheart signing off,