Dearest Reader,
Today, I’m sharing what will likely be the last in this series of rewritten things. Meaning, things that I’m reworking (again!) and which the writer in me wishes you saw in their now form the first time (the rest of me realizes the ego in that).
Still, there are new elements in today’s iteration. It’s not just a rerun.
But the biggest difference, for me, has nothing to do with what I’ve woven into this latest tapestry of story.
The biggest difference is how, in the rewriting and rereading, I’m writing and reading about someone else. Almost.
The way of life is change and all that, etc., etc.
But also, the writing changed me and the rewriting changed me. The version of self that I seek to capture isn’t here anymore.
Same goes for versions of others seen through my then eyes and now eyes (which, in any case, can only and ever be part true).
Also, when not writing, I tend to move through my days, focus on the latest worry at hand, get on with things. Meaning, when not writing, I tend to forget.
But looking back, I tear up when I read what’s below. Even or perhaps especially now, when things are very different.
I see this girl. I see that she did this.
Meaning, I see that she went through this really, really hard thing. I see that somehow, against what seemed impossible odds, she survived.
God, I just want to hug her. God, I just want to tell her: It’s okay. You’re okay.
So, if you read on, please know I’m in a different life now, mostly.
After the hell of divorce and being left and being left again and barely having enough money or hope to hold on, I did.
After a Winter of eating one meal a day and sleeping in a freezing house bereft of furniture and faith, I write to you now from a lovely home.
One on acres of forested land minutes from the Atlantic and protected by bald eagles. One that I share with my ex and current partner (same person). One in which the love and gratitude I feel for my parents is bigger than words can hold.
One in which I’m able to own up to my part in things. My then truth and now truth is not the full one. It never was and never could be.
Also, know this:
However dark things seem, it’s okay. You’re okay. This really is the stuff that makes us. This really is what being human does.
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With love, faith & gratitude,
Dana
With each relationship we enter into in life, we bring the inheritance of all that came before. All that we were before and all that we witnessed and experienced.
Some of this is conscious—this so-called baggage of being human and surviving the toll of others and world. More of it is subconscious, secreted away in bags of shadows. We arrive, our stuff tumbles out all at once or over time, and we watch as another’s stuff does the same. Knowing mine from yours gets complicated. Knowing mine from yours stops, at a certain point, making sense.