My inner voice
I sit. Slumped against my bedroom wall my crossed arms rest atop bare knees. I breath deeply. The evening light streaming through the high window above washes the room in faded navy. My eyes shut as I replay the past year. The heartbreak. Disappointments. The ebbs. The flows. Man, has it really been a year since Elizabeth broke my heart? And of course, that happened right after grandma died. Which was right after Will's mom was diagnosed with cancer. Christ, that was a tough six weeks, wasn't it? And yet here I sit, almost a year later, somehow feeling worse.
Of course, I know why I feel worse. I wiggle my toes deeper into the carpet as I force myself to face the uncomfortable parts.
My life is a mirage. An oasis seemingly filled with the finest treasures, but actually containing nothing but hot sand. I am an architect, yes. It is a good career, yes. But how many times have I toyed with the notion of leaving for a life of travel? At least once a day, yet I am always quick to find an excuse. I let fear get the best of me. And I hate myself for it.
My head rests against the wall. I feel the hard sheetrock behind me. This is the same conversation I have with myself on a daily basis.
I shift my thoughts to the present.
It is laughable, in the most heartbreaking sense of the word, the course this past year took. Months of darkness went by, but I was finally able to get past the worst of the breakup with Elizabeth. Thoughts of travel began resurfacing again. My excitement bubbling back. And then? In walks Alexa. How did I let myself get into another relationship that sacrificed my dreams? If I had been stronger, I would have been better. But I wasn't. And sweet jesus, what a mistake. Never in my entire life have I had another person make me feel so incredibly awful about every single aspect of myself before. How could a woman with so much soulful depth be so emotionally abusive and manipulative? I was screamed at to be vulnerable and then ridiculed mercilessly for doing so. I was never good enough. Day. After day. After god damn day. I put up with it for five months because it got to the point where I honestly felt like something WAS wrong with me. I felt like I wasn't good enough for the life I wanted. It was the lowest of lows. I found the strength to walk away last week, but look at my life. Working the same job. Not traveling. Still in the same god damn spot I always am, loathing my lack of courage.
I touch my chin to my chest, trapped again by my own walls. I feel defeated.
And then I hear it. My inner voice.
It is barely more than whisper, but I hear it.
It is a voice I have never heard before.
I feel something stirring deep inside. Something is searching. Kicking down walls. Fighting. Ripping me from the iron grip of pain and fear. The voice grows louder.
"Your past is not your future. The choices you've made only brought you to this exact point, they do not dictate where you go from here. You have a choice. Now is the time."
A switch flips. For the first time I fully feel my own power. My true power.
I stand up. And suddenly I realize I have been speaking out loud this entire time. The guiding voice is my own. My inner voice.
"Enough," I say with conviction.
I take a step toward the door.
*Names in this post have been changed