A letter to the trauma that keeps me stuck

I don't know how to say this without sounding dramatic, but it feels like I survived a plane crash. Or like I'm a burn victim.

Like I've been through something so violent and so jarring that every part of me has changed, but because most of the damage happened on the inside, everyone expects me to just... keep going.

And that's the weird part.

What do you mean I just keep going?

It feels like every bone in my body was broken and reset. Like I had reconstructive surgery. Like my face changed. Like my organs were rearranged.

And now I'm supposed to sleep in my pink bed. Go to work. Walk my dog. Go to bed. Wake up and do it all again.

It's bizarre.

It feels like time should have stopped. Like life itself should have paused. The universe should have acknowledged that something catastrophic happened. The tectonic plates should have shifted.

For all I know, I could be living on Mars. Everything feels that different.

I don't understand how the world can look exactly the same when I feel like an entirely different person.

And the strangest part? Most days, I'm okay. I'm healing. I'm genuinely happy. I'm excited about my life again.

Which almost feels wrong.

None of this is normal. None of this is normal. None of this is normal.

So what now? I just... keep living?

It feels like I died and somehow came back to life. But instead of mourning that, I've started treating it like a second chance at living.

I went clubbing this weekend. And illuminated by strobe lights, a thought hit me like a fist to the gut.

I realized I never would have done that if I'd stayed married. I never would have met these friends. I never would have had the confidence to spend a night without him. I definitely wouldn't have had the emotional or mental capacity to dance until three in the morning.

But I did.

And somewhere between the music, the strobe lights, and the freedom, I realized how much of myself I'd been missing.

That night was freedom. It reminded me how lucky I am to have a life I never would have chosen, but one that's becoming more beautiful than I ever imagined.

I never wanted a divorce. I would've stayed forever. But my life is taking turns I never could have taken if I'd stayed.

So yes, it was traumatic. It's felt like an emotional skydive. Like a meteor hit my life. But somehow, on the other side of all that destruction, I found something better than I knew was possible.

He was stunting my growth in every way. He was holding me back. He was my ceiling.

And now, I feel myself becoming the woman I was always meant to be. Leaving gave me the room to grow.

Sometimes I hardly recognize myself anymore because I'm tuning into a version of me I've never met before. A version of me that's freer. Kinder to herself. More confident. More curious. More alive.

And I love her.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking that if he hadn't been who he was, I would've stayed forever. I never would've met this version of myself.

As painful as that realization is, it's also one of the greatest gifts my divorce has given me.

Don't get me wrong, I've been carrying this trauma for years. It started long before my marriage ended.

The difference is that now, I'm finally willing to look it in the eye. To hold its hand instead of running from it. To meet it with grace instead of shame.

Because now I'm finally becoming the girl I always wanted to be but didn't know where to find her.