breathe

I had another restless night fretting over the fast approaching possibility of my wings being clipped again. I’m sick with worry and dread and do not want to go back to how life was prior to their departure.

It feels like a vile joke, to be given a semblance of freedom and just as I’ve found my balance it’s taken away from me.

It took me a few weeks to find my center and I’ve just started to regain my fitness, even taking up yoga and then there’s the small matter of finally beginning my manuscript, something I’d been putting off for years now, waiting for the ‘right time’ but I just did it. And I do believe that finally living in a peaceful environment contributed to the courage found to finally just begin. This house has also finally began to feel like a home to me, the entire atmosphere has felt so much warmer and lighter and I do believe the small bouquet of vibrant flowers I’ve brought every week may or may not have contributed to it. But regardless of said flowers I have trouble breathing when I think of how cold this house was, how sterile and unfriendly it was to me and how insecure I felt living here.

At times like these I wish I had a friend that had a couch I could crash on for the time being because I don’t want to go back to that. I can’t go back to living a lie and hiding away the person I am and what makes me special from people who are supposed to love you unconditionally. It’s heartbreaking and I don’t want to give the past few weeks up. I don’t want my wings to be clipped again. At the same time I am so, so grateful to have been able to spend these few weeks living life of my own accord. It’s shown me a new door, given hope and shown me that happiness awaits. I just don’t want to let it go because I am terrified I won’t be able to grasp it again anytime soon.

Right now my parents have boarded a plane bound back home and in twenty-four hours they’ll be stepping through the front door. Of course this time tomorrow I won’t be greeting them since I am expected to be at ‘work’ in their eyes. Unless of course I stumble across a miracle over the coming hours that would enable me to have a proper ‘reason’ for being home.

But seriously? I sound like a damn school girl, pretending to be sick so I can stay home instead of going to school. But I am a twenty something gal! It’s plain ridiculous and yet it’s my sad reality. To think I have to go back to that after weeks of calm and sanity is unbearable; no wonder I am having panic attacks!

Please God don’t take this away from me,

xxx

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