Once upon a time there was girl who thought if she clicked her heels together and chanted "My life is perfect, my life is perfect" it would truly be, perfect. She did everything right by the book. She carefully and meticulously formed her illusion so perfectly that not only had she fooled herself, but also everyone around her. Well. No. Not everyone. The same people she claimed to cocoon out of her little illusion? No, they weren't fooled. The saw things pretty clear and worried when her sidewalk would end. When she would realize that her illusion was just that. An illusion.
Once upon a time there was a girl who carefully and meticulously formed her illusion. But then she woke up. She woke up to realize that no matter how hard your try to form and mold and build brick by brick if you build on sand, when those storm clouds come, when the lightning strikes and that thunder shakes you to the core illusions, they don't protect you. Illusions don't last. They just get washed away and what you have left is just a girl clicking her heels together desperately trying to rein that illusion back in.
I am half tempted to delete all the old post. To erase my illusions that my life, my love, my husband, all of it was perfect. It was almost as if, in those post, if I kept saying how perfect and how in love I was that it had to be true because, hell, I said it. Those post hurt to read because the girl who wrote them didn't want anything to mess up her pretty heels she was clicking together. She worked so hard at avoiding mud puddles and taking different paths to not step on a crack that would scratch those precious little heels. Without her heels in pristine condition, what does one have to click together?
I woke up to my reality on September 13, 2013. Reality was just sitting there waiting for me to realize it was there. My sidewalk that day ended. I stood at the end of it just thinking "Shit! Now what do I do?". I did what any girl in pretty shoes would do: went right back to clicking those damn heels together and tried like hell to rebuild my illusion because the alternative just didn't fit into what I had worked so hard over those past 10 1/2 years to create. All the key players in this pretty picture I painted turned out to be just watercolors that vanished when those storms clouds came. I looked around and not one of those people were left. It still amazes me to this day the power of a few conversation how they can destroy and reshape the entire life of a single person. I guess everyone in my life enjoyed the illusion I had made for them and they to were pretty damn pissed when I woke up one day and said "NO! I'm not happy!".
I need to work through all of this. I need to put down in writing exactly how I got to this point and document it so it never happens again. I need to be able to put into writing that LIFE IS MESSY and that's okay! Not only okay, life being messy can also be amazing because being messy makes me authentic. I need to see in writing that this new life is good and it's full and happy and hard. Sometimes it's plain painful and asthma inducing stressful but at the end of the day, I make biscuits. Homemade, from scratch biscuits because I always wanted to but let my perfect life hold me back from doing the silly little things that I had always wanted to do. I need to keep breathing that fresh air of accomplishment during this new messy life when I know I accomplished yet another thing off of this strange little bucket list I've made myself.
I need to work through all of this because, in my quiet moments at night I find myself staring at those sparkly heels I once use to click together and I find myself missing them. Longing to slip my feet back into them and feeling the rhythmic sensation just for one last time. It's during those moments I feel sadness and I allow myself to mourn the loss of my illusion.