Welp. Today was supposed to be 12 years with my ex-husband.
Side note: I actually suck at writing journals unless it’s about relationships and I hate that. I know that I’m not defined by him or anyone else other than myself. But the times that I really need to write are the times that I feel like I need to get through something. And I’m stuck in this stage of getting through this relationship and navigating my way forward.
I feel sad that we’re not celebrating 12 years together, but at the same time, I also feel happy in a way that we are not. I didn’t want to be with him anymore and I didn’t want to realize or accept that. Now that I accept that, I feel a sense of relief that I don’t have to celebrate this anniversary with him. Looking back on the last 12 years and every anniversary that we’ve spent together doesn’t bring back the feelings that I feel like I should feel if I were still wishing we were together.
What a sense of closure. What a journey.
Looking back at these happy memories lights a little light in my heart. The love is there. It’s always there. And it doesn’t bring feelings of pain. It brings feelings of acceptance and gratefulness that I got to have those experiences. I don’t regret the relationship at all. It was a young and very real love. It was just another phase of life that we both outgrew together that required us to head down different roads. I know that this relationship has helped shaped me into who I am. I am taking the positives from the relationship with me and healing from the negatives. But I have no regrets.
Year 13 becomes Year 1. Year 1 of Becoming Myself (thanks Alicia Keys).
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