Well, I know I haven’t reached the end of my story, and if I keep going with the enthusiasm I’ve got, I might never get there because it might never come. I’ll just keep writing about my adventures from whatever I was doing a year before writing.
But either way. One year ago today, I sat in an airport I was familiar with and wrote on the first page of a journal: “So it begins.” And so it did. Because that was the beginning of my beginning. The beginning of my healing, the beginning of me putting myself back together on my own terms with my own hands.
This afternoon I wrote on the last page of that journal: “I want so badly to write down everything I’ve learned in the last year. That some people aren’t worth the pain they cause, that being lonely is only an opportunity to make a new friend or befriend yourself, that sometimes being lonely is the only way to force yourself to face what you most want to avoid, that some people are as scared of you as you are of them. Most of all: Nothing is insurmountable. And the only person that can ultimately defeat you is you.”