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When I first started my blog in July of last year, I started with an introduction and purpose. Looking back at this piece of writing and all that I have written, I have conceived three very exciting concepts.
     1. Writing helps me monumentally with my emotional strength and regulation.
     2. My quality of life is intertwined with my self awareness, often gained through writing.
     3. Each time I write, I develop into my own teacher, healer, doctor, and confidant. It is like me
     healing me. 

The 19 posts published on this blog are only a drop in the bucket of what I have written over the last year and a half.

Here is the introduction and purpose I wrote at launch:

"So, I started to blog.

My sincere hope is that writing will help me (and hopefully others) through various, rough times. If not? Hey, at least I am making some healthier choices than I have in the past. In my simple opinion that is a positive thing for me and my little family.

A dear friend of mine suggested blogging as a way to cope and process raw feelings. "Write it out, and let it go" she shared with me. "You always play your cards so close to the chest. Let others help. Even if that help is just reading what you write. Or, just write it and don't share it."

A different, dear friend helped me master transforming physical pain. (Give me that over emotional distress any day!) In matters of the heart, I have come to realize, with me at least, the only way to "get over it" is through it.

I have attempted to numb or just plain ignore that distress, both options are sticky. Since I have actually begun dating for real, I have embarked on a whole different ball game with interpersonal relationships. I have never experienced this level of emotional turmoil before, hence - the blogging. However, I really do see the pain as a good thing, but oh God... so hard.

Our physical bodies are amazing, pain indicates so many things, and can be tool. The same is true with my emotional body and my emotional pain. In medicine, we learn that if the pain is different, it's usually a very good thing. Different can be healthy, and I embrace this pain as a guide to direct me to new paths."

Bibliotherapy really works for me because I am analytical. It is one of my characteristics I am fond and proud of. Through it, I bear the ability to perform emotional and mental resections and reformations at my own hand. The astonishing power I have benefited from makes me intensely curious. What if I were to write about various matters in hand? As I observe my most esteemed mentors, they all had one thing in common. Guess what it was? They write.

Is it time to proliferate? What an exciting thought...

Proof

Sadness, pain and suffering are universal emotions. All have felt it. All will feel it. In my experiences it is important to know these so I can know and appreciate the opposite end of the spectrum.

Because I finally accepted that I fundamentally feel unworthy, unloveable, and undesireable, I was finally able to identify that I only date men that would "prove" this fundamental belief to me.

Knowledge is power, as they say, and you know what finally happened? I broke. All of my excuses imploded. The faux "protection" I snaked behind? Gone. The bareness left me open, if not incredibly shaky and vulnerable. No longer was I able to hide my true feelings away. And, fuck, I had to do something about it.

So, I bear my mangled soul to my most serious offender, Christopher Saville. The man I have loved and been in an off-and-on relationship with for over a year. Our exchange was soft but terrifying. Direct, and implosive. Our insidious collusion was called out as bullshit. And just like that... I was released from the grips and the awfulness of this man and his repeated offenses. I no longer have to make excuses for the terrible choices he makes in life or in our relationship. I no longer have to explain empathy and responsibility to a grown man. Over are the days where I request basic, human consideration. Finished are my pleadings with him to "see" and "hear" our children and myself. My dutiful position as his confidant I was now willing to take off the table altogether.

Fragmented and armed with my truth, I was finally able to demand his.

His cold, callous responses were like stinging hail, descending upon me until the gravest of discoveries: that his artifice of love is conditional, and ended long ago. His intentions each time we 'got back together' were never to reconcile, but to get what he could get. I could clearly see this now. Because I shared my black, deep truths, he revealed his, which mostly consisted of preying on my vulnerabilities during our time together.
Towards the end, I looked up into his eyes, which previously would have coaxed me back into his arms and I finally recognized it in him, or rather the depth of it. Chris felt similarly about himself that I did about myself. And as my eyes filled up with tears upon this realization, I choked out "This is a good thing." Because I intrinsically believe in balance, I know we (as human beings, not together) are capable of reversing and rising from this.

My continued and offered optimism fell on his deaf ears and his hard heart. But, the surge of encouragement I felt from within me was unmatched and unprecedented. I was finally able to severe our toxic relationship that overflowed with longing, suppression and loneliness. The deepest sadness I experienced came from his parting thoughts and words. After we had fully disclosed and arrived at this place, he clearly still did not understand. He even had the audacity to ask if he could still see me. "To what end?" I asked. "Do you not comprehend the depth of the hurt that you have caused and that I have allowed? Do you still not understand?" No, he didn't.

Why would he want to cling to his connection with me? He confessed earlier that he does not love me. That he is not able to love me, to be there for me, or any of the things that I had asked for and he never delivered, and I pathetically accepted his emptiness. As I claimed my virtue and began to shut him down, he jammed his foot in for one last attempt. "I still want to date you. Even though I know I have been unfair to you, I still want to be friends". His words are so very wrong, as they hang above me. "Be friends? You don't know what that means." I point out. "Why, Chris?" He cannot answer... But, he doesn't have to. Even though I can spell it all out for him, I don't. I invite him to leave and never come back.

How was I able to do this? It is because of my worth, that I can finally see, feel and claim. He is completely willing to receive all of the benefits of being loved by me, AND completely unwilling to love me. I stand between him and my fragile self-discovery and draw a solid, thick line. I am worth so much more.

Compassionately I can see my value and my wobbly strength. This precious and fleeting insight I obtained through many drawn out experiences of being devalued in intimate relationships collectively gathered at the end of this one. The lies that I told myself and others, are dissolving and something familiar steps forward. Pain? Yes, it is pain... But, this time the pain is at the helm. And, even though it is excruciating... I trust and surrender that I no longer know what is best for me and I can accept that.

My friends, my therapists, my family I am so thankful for. However, ultimately I am thankful for the me and the courage to decidedly make this move. I am able to redefine what I know of myself, and I can grow.

Somethings we can only learn in intimate relationships, and this is one of them. Unfortunately, I have avoided those most of my adult life, so it has taken me longer than most. I walk away with gratitude and humility, because, shit... it's about time.