The Art—or not—of Removing the past: SO ... it all came down to this, 16 years I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—open this “vault,” aka storage unit. Yes, you read that correctly ... “16 years” holding onto the past and it’s all come down to goblets. Now, you’re smart enough to understand how stupid that was of me, not to mention the atrocious financial waste. Sickens me the waste, really. And, it hurts my heart that I’ve spent the last 16 years holding on to something that was already gone; crying over spilt milk, and all that I lost, meanwhile causing me to lose more. This isn’t a plea for your sympathy, it’s that for the first time In 16 years, I have the strength to address my “old life,” one I stashed in a storage unit to conveniently avoid and discreetly hide away from my mistakes. Funny thing though, once beyond the emotion of it all ... I’ve discovered a new joy inside this final step—it has been SO VERY FREEING. Duh, right? How little I thought of myself to believe I wasn’t strong enough to do this before or even back then ... to rifle through the wreckage and suffer the peak of its pain in order to fully process and find closure. I really did myself and those whom I love the most a great disservice in doing so. I see now that I not only got in my own way, but I STOOD and STAYED there ... rooted in blocking my own progression and growth. Removing my former life from storage ... I found a few things that made me smile, and a few more that didn’t. But, the brightest side—I busted out our wedding china for every day use because well, why the hell not? And, to top that, I only broke down in tears twice ... so far! That’s some pretty good emotional self-regulation in my book. This is me, in a nutshell, outgrowing my own bullshit. #postdivorce #movingon #forbetterorworse #outgrowingmyownbs 🍃☀️🍃 https://www.instagram.com/p/B1fM3xhgnhi/?igshid=vp4hhg7rs4fi
