A friend told me to find my voice again.
And using some of his words, that’s what I’m doing.
Sometimes we do things that hurt in order to protect the people we love.
Everyone has been through heartache in their life. Everyone has suffered some amount of pain. We can let it define us. Or control us. Or break us. Or we can rise above it and use it as fuel for the fire that will carry us through.
I write about what hurts me, what heals me, what feeds me, what makes me happy, what makes me think. I write to get through. I don’t write to prove points or teach lessons or change minds. I do it for me and me alone.
Some people pray. Some people go to therapy. Some people bottle things. Some people sweep things under rugs. Some people medicate.
I write. I write and share with strangers behind this computer screen. It’s how I deal. It empowers me. I conquer a tiny fear every time I press publish, because I’ve always been afraid of speaking my mind, in fear that someone won’t like it. Or me. This is how I cope.
This is how I heal.
This is my space. This is my voice. This is my home.
Sometimes I can’t write about everything I wish I could. And I make that choice in order to protect the people I love. Is that the right thing? I don’t know.
But sometimes we do things that hurt in order to protect the people we love.
Sometimes we do it for our entire lives.
It doesn’t mean we ignore or dismiss the pain. Or forgive. Or trust. Or allow. It just means we choose to let someone else live a life they believe is the right one, while we live the life we believe is the right one.
We can fight a lifetime of battles to try and make someone do the right thing. Or we can choose to live our own life, and let them live theirs.
Right doesn’t always win. And sometimes we need to allow that to be so, without putting the blame on our shoulders.
“Sometimes the best we can do is think about the hope down the road.”