Dear year one,

What do I even say to you, how about something like?…. What the F*&k man?
It has been a whole year and here we are; still staring at blank pages trying not to type “suck a fat one”.  
I have faced it all head on this year, not because I really wanted to but because dear life, you gave me no choice. So I no longer hide from your shadowy grips and I reluctantly embrace your fire power of death. (Take note of the reluctantly…. also see super unenthusiastically.)
I have spent this year tearful, fearful, desolate and consumed by ugly crying face.
I have also spent this year, empowered, creatively inspired, brave and proud; while remaining outrageously attractive.
Even though my last few months have been spent in tears on the shower floor rearranging my little ponies into neat lines or crying in my bed/couch/car so on and so on.
These moments have also been filled with love and support and of pure happiness. There was also moments of pure resentment and anger for what happened to me a billion years ago. These moments have all but crushed me, all but demolished my willpower to love myself again, to feel me.

And while I feel like I am going around in circles with a supermarket trolley that has a busted wheel with my past, my ability to recognise that there is light at the end has never faltered, even when I thought it had, it was there.
I have always pushed on because my will to survive is bigger than him. Bigger than what he did and the life he subjected me to for those years will never be as big as me.

I have learnt to trust my instinct, to trust the process (even though stupidly hard at times). I have learned to adore? and cherish? (it’s still unclear) the part of me that is in pain because without that, there is no pure happiness.
I believe I would never have met the man I married and gruesomely birthed our incredible children, who needless to say bring me endless joy (and frustration and mess).
I would never have been the loving and protective mother I am or the washing pile avoiding wife that I have grown to be.
I might have never known this kind of heartbreaking sadness to truly know that very kind of happiness.
I would never have started a blog and discovered my love for writing, I’d never discovered the creative joy it brings me. I would never have thought to write a book and so lovingly cherish every small idea I have about it and imprint it into my brain to save for later….Much much later (you know, when someone hands me that shiny new macbook air).

I would have never ‘met’ the incredible support network of people I have through my blog, a few of them have become incredibly supportive friends that I can truly identify with. I am grateful for a following of much adored readers. Without them I would never have thought I could keep going with this nor that anyone even cared. Every comment, every message I receive makes me smile and in awe. Each person that has come forward and shared a story with me, has helped me in one way or another and so I thank every one of them from the bottom of my little blackened heart.

With my pain comes joy too, I can not deny that. I am grateful for my journey this far.
My journey from here isn’t to erase my past like I originally imagined I could, nor to ‘fix myself’ but to learn to live with the past, and learn to love myself with it.

This next year can only bring more power, more support and love, while it will also bring heaps of shit balls, it might be shit balls covered in chocolate with a cherry on top.

Here’s to year two, Year one.

Much love


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