The past 5 weeks have been the hardest of my entire life, and I haven't exactly had a comfy life. I've been with Dylan for 22 years, since we were both 18 years old. He was my safety, my comfort. I trusted him implicitly and gave him my whole heart. I became "the Jo part of Dylan and Jo" and lost more and more of myself in the process. When he told me that he was leaving me, I thought I would die. I was genuinely surprised that my heart continued to beat. I thought I couldn't live without him.
I was wrong.
I now know that I am stronger than I ever could have imagined. My heart has been well and truly broken, but with the help of a wonderful support system I'm stitching it back together bit by bit. I'm learning to comfort myself. My creativity has always been healing for me, and I'm leaning on it heavily to get me through this. I'm allowing/encouraging/pushing myself to take a new path. It's scary. It's rough and overgrown and full of thorns, and I'm certainly stumbling along (hell, I'm practically falling off cliffs), but I'm just gonna keep putting one foot in front of the other and trust that it's leading somewhere beautiful.
I didn't choose this. I'm deeply grieving the loss of my husband, of hopes and dreams of an imagined future together, but I'm also painting a new picture in my mind. I'm learning to embrace the possibility that my life can be whatever I make it. I'm choosing to make it wonderful.