No matter how bad a decision turned out (if I went into my whole life story we’d be here weighing lesser of two evils lol)..I’m glad I’m the type of person that takes risks. It may have changed me, but I want change over a stagnant personality. A few choices I made were costly. A few were stupid on a level of absurdity. Others, bad, but not worth mentioning. I live life and have done a lot in 25 years. …I regret what was taken from me in violence. It opened up a new world. I never thought it would actually happen to me and it was not a pretty aftermath, but I got through it. No regrets on leaving my family. They had their own way of making someone feel like she couldn’t fight back. If you are always shown how lacking your opinion is, it will get to you over a 19 year long span.
Sheltered or no, I spent years in both settings. Even spent time around shady places because I caved into peer pressure when dealing with shady people. I am beyond that now. I look at people unless I find myself studying a location. My curiosity bit me in the ass…and I still have to check it to make sure it isn’t old, idealistic, impulsive habits kicking back in.
It is presumptuous for a person to look at me trying to emotionally recover (aka leaving my parent’s house) as making a childish, unintelligent decision. Look at my memory….trust me, bad incorporated, I would do the same all over again for the intellectual growth I have experienced since coming out of a space that was controlling, deceptive, and belittling. If freedom from control comes at a cost, I’ll pay it. If only to save the parts of me that took three years to find.
I am free. Confined by fear at times, but still free to say, do, and choose as I please. I did not have those options for many years to a level people do not seem to get. Not extreme…but kind of. That restriction is what got me into trouble. If I had been taught how to have my own opinion, rather than being told what opinion to adopt (on everything), my assessment skills would have been on point. No use going through what ifs.
I am broken and alive. It is a paradox and the two fight each other for superiority.
I am also weary, down to my bone marrow and along my spine. There is a lot I can take at once. Too much and I dwindle away. Too little and I don’t grow. I wish someone had spoken to me on how to handle a weary heart that has seen a lot. My innocence is missed. Reality is cold and forceful. It tears you apart to put you together again, over and over and over again. I am weary of reality. It has scared and scarred me; branded is a good term for it; and my heart is stretched far. Too far away for me to find its beat. My pulse is strong. I don’t want my heart to keep traveling. Broken will be shattered. Pulse will be hard to hear.
I am trying to force my energy to a point of faking it until my body thinks it is real. My mind still races. I love thoughts. My energy will be looked at later.
Fyi. No, I am not going to harm myself. I write to reflect emotions. That does not mean I dismiss rational thought.