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I am heavily influenced by bloggers and authors, mainly women, who embrace the messy parts of their lives to include physical as well as mental messes. These writers share dark, vulnerable, and sometimes fucked up sides of themselves and their lives, and I freaking love it. It all makes me feel less alone when I’m reading about others’ depression struggles, issues with loved ones, past traumas spurred by a multitude of things, and moms wading through the mires of raising children, among other things. I know that reading these heartfelt and raw writings help me, and in turn, I find solace in sharing my not so great parts in hopes that someone might find them helpful. As an added bonus, those thoughts and feelings are pulled out of my anxious brain and bruised heart and are out on the page/blog post.

Bringing certain situations to light can feel so cathartic and healing to me, and that can be a problem for some people who are part of the situations I write about. I’ve seen videos and I’ve read quotes recently that have practically the same message of “If you didn’t want me to talk poorly about you, perhaps you should’ve been nicer” and that really resonated with me. I’m not here to bash anyone, I’m here to talk about how situations and my interactions with others have made me feel and how I process them. I’m also here to celebrate the wins I gain by voicing my opinion when I am wronged; I feel so much better and more authentic when I am honest about the mistakes I’ve made and how I feel when others have treated me poorly.

Shame dies when we bring it to light and share it with others. This is something I learned during my divorce and more recently with my last relationship. Admitting when I’ve messed up is huge, and admitting when I didn’t uphold my boundaries or when I willingly let someone cross one of my boundaries, and I didn’t call them out on it, is also huge. I don’t want to feel as though I can’t talk about something because it will make someone, who didn’t treat me well, uncomfortable.

Thank you for reading my mind vomit!

Bisous,
Chenay

I think this is the third iteration of my blog? Probably? And it should be the last (my future self is probably laughing at me right now).

Life looks a lot different than it did three years ago, two years ago, and now one year ago.

Three years ago I was married. Two years ago I was newly into a relationship and newly divorced. One year ago today I proposed to that person. And today, I am no longer with that person I proposed to. Yesterday sucked, as I was feeling all of the sadness of that lovely proposal and how much attention and care I gave it. But, I have to remind myself, I was worried he didn’t think it was that special. And then I got to thinking that for a good chunk of our relationship, I felt less than, that I wasn’t that special, or that I wasn’t good enough. That there was always something better, or there was someone better, and he just hadn’t found it yet.

So why on earth did I propose if I felt this way? Because I stuffed down those feelings, and on occasion when I shared how I felt, I was told that I was cared for and that he always says what he means, which I now know to be occasionally untrue.

So today, on the anniversary of the proposal, I am doing better than I was yesterday. I am remembering that the relationship, as a whole, sucked. I didn’t fully realize or understand this when I was deep into it, but hindsight is always so wonderful (and so are your friends’ post-breakup opinions of your ex). I made the proposal beautiful and meaningful, and I didn’t feel like it was what he wanted, like I should have done something else to have made it better. It wasn’t enough, I wasn’t enough, my kids weren’t enough, the house wasn’t enough, our life together wasn’t enough.

But now I do know I’m enough. Even when I tried to rekindle the relationship after what I thought was a lovely and reassuring conversation, and instead of a no I got a hell no, and I can forgive myself for attempting the reconnection, and essentially taking a step backwards in my healing, and still know that I’m enough.

Being honest about my mixed-up feelings feels so good. Some days I am angry as hell, and some days I’m sad and I miss him. But more often, now, I’m neutral. And I know that as the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months and the months turn into a year, more of the neutral days will follow. This takes time, and therapy, and conversations with my friends and family.

Hard things still crop up, like feeling the need to text him after seeing someone else and missing the comfort of our established relationship. Like Evey seeing one of the cats on the yellow chair and lamenting the fact that his dog loved that chair, and why can’t we see him because the dog did nothing wrong? It’s difficult to explain to a nine year old that yes, it is just a visit with a dog, but then that visit involves communication with him which in turn takes away from my peace. No more giving up my peace for the sake of others.

I’m so lucky to have all of the support that I do, and I hope that all of my supporters know that I love them and that I would reciprocate all of that love.

Bisous,

Chenay

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