Did you know we fought our way through the honeymoon?
Of course not.
I’d become the master at hiding.
The guru of fake smiles & affection.
Why did I get married again?
I’ve sat with that question so many times.
In so many dark rooms, laying awake.
On so many walks in the woods.
During so many runs while gasping for air.
The best times I’ve found to roll over this question is when the sun is on my face & the wind is rustling through the trees.
It’s in moments like this that my soul is the most steady.
I can hear her in those moments.
I think I got married because it was the thing to do.
What everyone expected of me.
For so long I lived a life only to meet the set expectation that I couldn’t take care of myself.
I internalized those expectations as truth.
So what leg did I have to stand on as a single mother?
My dreams were “too big”.
My aspirations “too high”.
My mind too flighty.
Obviously I couldn’t do it on my own.
Then I started listening to myself.
I started listening to what I know.
And what I do know is I have yet to disappoint myself.
If you ask me, that stands for a lot more than other people’s expectations.
Don’t get me wrong now.
I don’t regret getting married.
The past (nearly) six years have been truly formative.
Most enraging years I hope to ever experience.
But through all that I became me.
And damn it, the woman I am is one I am ridiculously proud to be.
I truly think relationships, soul mates, marriages, all of the alike are meant to give us two options.
Grow or stay the same.
What happens as a result is simply just a ripple effect.
It’s really not up to us to dictate.
We just decide.
Stay the same.
Think about it.
Two different choices.
When we come to each other & what we choose to do.
That’s all just a chapter in our story.
That’s why I can’t regret being married.
That’s why I won’t say I won’t get married again.
That’s why I’m not ashamed.
How can I be?
I’ve always made the choice to grow.
And despite the grueling consequences, I found Hannah.
And here’s the thing.
My soul has been trying to tell me something for years.
Your expectations don’t fit me.
They don’t make me happy.
They make me feel like I can’t breath.
They make me feel small.
And I’ll be damned if I spend the rest of my days carrying the mountains I was meant to climb.