I read my messages from the past; the letters I wrote to myself... the notes I made for no one. I read about the darkness, the pain, the hurt. I read it and I'm amazed. There were days I didn't think I'd make it, nights I didn't want to wake up the next day. I remember feeling like I'd never escape the hole I had dug for myself and no amount of self pity, tears or alcohol helped. I had come to terms with the fact that 'damaged' was my new identity. I used my circumstances to justify my poor decisions and my changes in personality. I allowed myself to be defined by what happened to me and I was ok with that because I felt like I at least existed in some form; albeit broken.
I read those words that I know I wrote and I am amazed. How is it possible that I could feel so content at this moment when I never thought I'd even survive? Is this what happiness feels like? How long has it been since I've felt happiness? Have I ever? Has there ever been a time in my life when I didn't feel the weight of the world on my shoulders and the burden of others in my hands? I cant remember.
I didn't get lucky... I prayed for this moment. A lot. I finally feel deserving. I've worked hard to create a place for myself in the professional world. I've done the best that I can to make a home for myself. I've tried to be the supportive friend and the loving daughter to the best of my ability. I deserve to be happy for a change. I deserve to feel like others care about me instead of always feeling like the one to care for a change.
I've earned happiness. I've earned success. I've earned love. I never thought I would believe those statements in reference to myself; never thought I'd be able to accept happiness. I read these words and I'm amazed.
