My Girl, Look at How Far You’ve Come

Let’s look passed the fact I’ve been so incredibly wanky talking about myself as “my girl” for a second.

Because I’m happy.

I’d forgotten what this felt like (and how tragic is that, to forget what happiness feels like). I’d forgotten what it felt like to feel content within my mind and body, and to not cry every other day like a total misery. You can achieve a lot when you’re not wasting energy on negative emotions, thoughts, and ‘what if’ scenarios. All those things that he didn’t think I could do, the things he mocked me for? I’m doing that. And my god, it feels liberating.

This isn’t to say that I don’t feel goddamn awful some days, or that I don’t have a bit of a cry in the shower sometimes. But it’s infrequent, usually set off by a particularly bad day, or when tennis players get emotional on their centre stage (Wimbledon, my heart belongs to you).

Before, I was coping. Now, I’m thriving.

World, it’s so lovely to be back. Fully and enthusiastically.

 

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