The Cost of Healing

A month ago, I realized that my memories were starting to return. I began to remember things, while insignificant, from a time that I thought was lost to me.

It started with remembering what I had done to escape, be discarded, and feel loved. The thing is, I knew that it happened, but I could not remember exactly what happened. One day, as I sat mindlessly scrolling through my phone, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I sat in my room thinking, “Now, why would I suddenly remember that?” 

Then, it happened again a few days later. I vividly remember playing Call of Duty with my stepson. We sat on the floor in the living room of the apartment I had co-signed for my wasband, but I was not a resident. We were running around trying to stab the zombies and talking trash to people on the mic who did not know the Call of Duty etiquette. Yes, there is an etiquette to playing the game. 

I also remembered another day when I was drunk and falling over into this pain-in-the-ass cactus that had been a nuisance since we got it. I am talking hurricane coming up the coast, wasband on duty at work, and I had to lift this thirty (30) pound thing (okay, that might be an exaggeration, but this thing was HEAVY) into the house by myself, and it fell onto me. At the time, I remember thinking that cactus got to feel my wrath for once. It died shortly after. 

But then, out of nowhere, I started to wonder… Was my wasband, right? Was he the best I was going to get? Did I screw up our marriage? Should I have stayed?

The correct answer was, is, and always will be no. I would not be where I am today if I had stayed. If I had stayed, I would still wonder where my strength and tenacity went.

I asked my therapist why I would romanticize something that clearly broke me. Her answer was simple. She said to me, “You’re healing. You have done enough work and gotten so far away from it that the pain is gone. Romanticizing the experience is normal.”

I looked at her and wanted to say, “You’re joking, right?”

The funny thing is that I broke no contact a few months before the memories came back. I told him about my dog and his heart disease because, out of the kindness of my heart, I felt he deserved to know. I know he does not care; I wasted my energy, but I could not stop myself. But I did not just stop there. I started sending him random TikTok’s and asked for his assistance in understanding the new retirement plan I would be receiving because he has been in the public sector for so long.

After this week, I realized why God had begun letting memories slip from the door I thought would forever be shut. I needed to be reminded that I can walk away from anything that does not serve me. I have all the tools within me to keep walking with my head held high. My need to be aggressive with people before slamming the door is to make sure my conscience is clear when I put my head down for the night. 

I manifested this life that I am currently living. While some of my manifestations were mistakes, I am still learning, growing, and healing. My body has finally exited the fighting stage of fight or flight. I am no longer looking over my shoulder or freezing when I see someone who looks like my wasband. I still sleep with the light on, but maybe one day, I will feel safe again to turn it off.

Until next time…

Love, peace, and chicken grease <3

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