All the squishy bits...

Is there anything more terrifying than sharing the vulnerable pieces of yourself with someone new?

... I'm sure there are but that's not the point.

It seems crazy that we hand people these treasure maps to ourselves, but the x doesn't mark a chest of gold and instead leads to all of the most fragile parts of our psyche.

We trust these new people with the very parts of ourselves that were once betrayed, fingers crossed that this time it will be different, that this person won't add their own brand of heartache and baggage.

I'm not even talking about romantic relationships, or not totally. We do this with coworkers, new friends, even family members we begin getting closer to. Over and over again we open up, often just a little at a time, and have to hope for the best.

I hate this, and I am honestly really really bad at it. I find it so hard to really trust anyone with anything other than the superficial dribble of everyday life.

Sure, I open up here... under a pen name... with very few links to my real, actual life and people I really, actually know.

Recently I had too much wine, and opened up to a new friend waaaay more than stone cold sober Libby would even day dream of doing. With a laser pointer, pretty highlighters, graphs, flashing neon signs, and one of those airport guys with the cones I showed this person so new in my life a few of the soft squishy bits I prefer to keep hidden.

It didn't seem like much, they made the right sympathetic and supportive comments and will likely never think twice about it, but it is terrifying to me, and will cause my heart to randomly and unexpectedly race on and off for weeks to come.

Not only did I give them ammo, I gave them big, shiny targets.

That's part of life though, of truly living, you have to let people in from time to time. You have to trust your own judgement and their goodness.

(Forgive the typos and errors, this was another late night ramble made on my trusty phone.)

Ramblings in the dark...

It's been a while since I've posted.

Hell, it's been a while since I've written anything.

I've tried to find a way to neatly sum up all that has happened in my life over the last year but, for the first time in my life, words have utterly and completely failed me.

Maybe one day I'll get there, maybe one day I'll wake up knowing exactly how to weave the tale of my journey into becoming a single parent.

Maybe one day I'll suddenly find the words to explain the new scars on my heart and soul.

Today is not that day.

Words are these amazing, living, evolving things that we use in so many unique and fantastic ways. Used at their best they tell beautiful stories, encourage others, declare new love.

At their worst?

Words used as a weapon cut far deeper than any blade, poison the mind, destroy the soul, dismantle trust, crush hope.

Used at their worst words can create wounds you fear will never heal.

I am not those wounds.

I am more than the words used against me by others.

I am more than the words I use against myself.

I am just as much of a product of words of encouragement and strength as I am the words meant to harm.

No.

I am MORE a product of the words of words of encouragement and strength than I am the words meant to harm.

They still hurt, I still find myself looking down expecting to see blood because surely anything that is this soul rending should manifest physically. How can so much pain exist without proof of existence?

Nights like tonight, when it's quiet and still and I'm still reeling from emotional sabotage from "well intended" family members (a story for another time), I find it hard to remind myself I am more than these scars.

I've come so far though. Piece by piece I've begun to let go of the mix-matched baggage of my past. With each beat up bag discarded I find myself happier, healthier, stronger, lighter.

Despite tonight's bout of despondency I am happier than I can remember being in quite some time. Things are better now than they have been in quite some time. My future is brighter than it had been for quite some time. 

That's right my loves, I am still ever the optimist and even a set back such as this will never change that. I still believe life works out as it should and that each heartache and misstep are nothing more than building blocks in the foundation of who we are meant to be.

(Forgive the rambling, it's been a weird day. Forgive the typos and errors, I am snuggled in bed using my phone and should be sleeping.)