I’m so fucking annoyed. Today’s blog post was supposed to be about something completely different. I finally sat down, started writing, the words were just… coming. Then one wrong click and I deleted the whole fucking thing. Gone. I just stared at my screen for a minute because what the actual fuck? So, I closed my laptop and did what everyone does when they’re irritated. I started doom scrolling on Instagram. Then I saw a post that said: “Somewhere in your 20s and 30s you’ll get the opportunity to rebuild your life after a negative loop.” And shit… if that isn’t my life right now. The funny part is that the blog post I deleted wasn’t some random story. It was the story. The one I’ve been avoiding. The one that explains so much about me. Why I love people so fucking hard. Why I give until there’s nothing left of me. Why I forget that I deserve the same kindness I hand out so freely. That post was going to be heavy. as. hell. It was going to force me to revisit parts of my life I haven’t talked about in years. Parts that still hurt. Parts that made me who I am, for better and for worse. But now I’m looking at it differently. Maybe I didn’t fuck up. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to hit publish today. Maybe my brain… or my heart… knew I wasn’t ready. Because writing about those things as the person I am today is one thing. Writing about them as a mom? That’s a completely different kind of pain. Now I don’t just think about what happened to me. I think about my son. I think about protecting his heart. I think about breaking every fucking cycle I can before it ever reaches him. That’s a lot. So maybe I need to give myself some grace. Maybe I need to stop acting like healing has a deadline. Maybe I need to let myself sit with these memories a little longer before I hand them over to strangers on the internet. Because when I tell that story, I want to tell it right. I want you to understand the little girl who became me before you meet the woman, I am now. So… bear with me. These are just my late night thoughts after feeling like I fucked up, only to realize maybe I didn’t. Maybe I just wasn’t ready yet. And maybe that’s okay.
Hey Jay 