That nervous pit goes away eventually ... right?

As I have finally stepped back from my life and taken a good look at what's going on, it's been something of a shock. The type of person I have been up to this point is blind and oblivious, no matter how in tune I think I am. I have been an 'all in' kind of person and when I go all in, I don't look back; I don't look anywhere. I just go. And then realize once it's too late that I've made a massive error. For the last eight years or so, I haven't really looked too hard at what I've been doing, right now, in this moment. I think I'm doing the right thing, I think I'm taking the right steps so I just take them and do my thing and do it wholeheartedly, which for me means without thinking. I have always been a forward thinking person - I am a planner - but somehow I have managed to blindly lead myself down a path that has gotten me through eight years of marriage that didn't fulfill but instead drained me, used me, and spat me back out. Now I'm embarking on a totally new life - a fresh start - that I never expected. I should have expected all of this. I just didn't want to; I didn't want to see it because I thought I was working so hard and doing all the right things to avoid this. But here I am.

I've had a pit in my stomach for a long time. When I realized how I had failed at my own life - and how hugely disappointed I was - there was kind of a soul-wrenching realization that settled in heavy and hard and hasn't let go. I don't think it does until I have been painfully and thoroughly honest with myself and decide to face the reasons instead of ignoring them yet again.

This whole year has been an eye-opening experience for me. I still feel like I'm walking through a fog and just leaning toward the dim light that will guide me out eventually. That light being a new direction for my life. I have been so scared to make any real and necessary changes for a long time because I didn't want to see how wrong I was: I made a really big mistake.

The last straw - the last handful of straws, really - has made me finally see what the hell is going on, what I've been putting up with and what has actually been a bunch of red flags - deal breakers - that I've been ignoring all along. Once I finally acknowledged them, it was a huge, relieving gasp of air. Like I've been sinking slowly and never even opened my eyes to see the surface slowly fading away. Once I 'got it', once I made a change - a last-ditch lurch toward the surface - that gasp of air was my wake up call. It's a weird moment. For me it really wasn't just one moment. It was a slow fade, a gradient experience as I was slowly waking up to my reality. It was like waking in the morning. There is a period where you are awake but don't quite know it ... you still drift in and out of a sleepy dream state and eventually the sensory input from around you comes on stronger than your dreams and you are fully awake. Now I just have to see that through and trust what I'm doing. It has felt right ever since I made my choice. It still feels right. Deep down, I know it's right. It's incredibly, achingly difficult, but it's right. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

I'm starting over. I'm doing what I need. I'm finding myself again. It's painful and nerve-wracking; and that pit still lingers. But one of these days it will be gone and it won't come back.


"I now realize that lives fall apart when they need to be rebuilt. Lives fall apart when the foundation upon which they were built needs to be relaid. Lives fall apart, not because God is punishing us for what we have or have not done. Lives fall apart because they need to. They need to because they weren't built the right way in the first place."

~ Iyanla Vanzant