I silenced myself

Over the past few months, you have noticed that the blog has been sporadic. For most, this means life was too hectic and it feel on the back burner. For me, it means that I silenced myself.

The blog has always been avenue where I could express myself, try my crazy marketing ideas and fail freely without judgement and concern of the outcome. Some where of the past few months, I chained the medium and myself.  I put standards around my writing, my activities and my honesty. I silenced myself.

In this time of public silence, I kept writing, and they are raw pieces as I tried to work through my own issues. From my stress eating and body image issues to accepting new life challenges, I tried to find the words to discover all the emotions right underneath the surface. Where I would normally, write and post, I found myself reading the words over and over again trying to recognize the woman who wrote them. I tried to write my old standard style and realized that it felt hollow now. Void of emotion and a facade of a past life.

I silenced and judged myself. In turn, I thought those who read my blog would too. (Not a fair assessment, I know) Just as I struggled to accept the new person and mental scars, I thought those around me would struggle. I was scared to share with you and truly myself

• how I mourned my old life
• how Brad’s experience had left me with scars – scars that you would never physically see, but haunted me
• that every passing day that Brad got better, I felt a darker cloud over my head waiting for it all to fall apart – life was too good to be true
• that I ate like a college boy to push those scary feelings far down inside and I sometimes rubber-band my pants together
• that at times, I felt like there most be something wrong with me – I had everything in front of me, but I was paralyzed with fear

I tried to ignore that I had changed and so had Brad. We were not the same people. 98% of the time, I liked the change for all the reasons you have read over our journey. BUT that 2%, had me more isolated than ever before. The months had worn on me and I felt broken and guilty for feeling broken. I tried for months to understand how the 98% of joy and 2% of damage could coexist. I would walk into our house see a messy kitchen and tailspin into the 2% only get a hold of myself and be mortified by the words and actions that spewed from those scars. I ignored people so I wouldn’t have to share how Brad was doing afraid that they would see my scars and not understand how the words coming out of my mouth were so positive, but the person behind them not matching. I didn’t want people to know that I was broken and unsure who this new person was.

I prayed and prayed for God to fix those scars, yet they were still there. One day when we were on vacation while I was sitting on the beach, it finally clicked. I am sure God was trying to help for all those months, but I was so concerned, guilty, and silencing of the 2% that I couldn’t realize it. There is no outrunning this. There is no killing of D. The B**** is here to stay. She won’t always be the center of our world, but she will always be part of it. Those scars while they will heal will always be part of me. So instead of trying to tie a nice bow on it and move on, I need to own this person without judgement. I need to be vulnerable to myself and others. I need to accept where I am on my own personal journey.

I need to let myself off those chains and get my voice back.