Trauma almost hits "reset" in your brain. Leaving an abusive person can make you leave behind parts of yourself as well. Deep loss changes people. Having experienced all three in the past year, well... let's just say happy birthday to a New Sarah that was born a year ago.
Dear Me,
Congratulations on one year of being Really Yourself.
It's been 12 months since you sat in the police department shivering in your pajamas while various uniformed figures walked in and out the room handing you pens and paperwork and sympathetic looks.
It's been 12 months since you packed your brand new apartment into your dad's car and came HOME.
And most importantly, it's been 12 months you've been you. (And I mean really you.)
It's been a hard year.
It's been a year of "separating fact from fiction" when it comes to what you are - what you love -what you believe - what you feel. And throughout that process, there have been many tears, nightmares, and Bad Days.
But one Bad Day (and one Good Day, and one Okay-ish Day) at a time - you made it to here.
There were times you weren't sure you'd get here. There were things you did in desperation to try and get here. (Therapy. Summer Camp. THIS BLOG.)
...and those things, it seems... worked.
Here you are.
Congrats, me, on one year of being free. One year of falling asleep and waking up all by yourself. One year of ordering your own meals. One year of cutting your hair whenever you like. One year of your own music. Your own books. Your own friends. Your own mistakes. Your own victories.
And may I remind you, me:
You're very young right now. It's only been a year. One-year-olds need help. It's okay to need help.
And so:
Happy Escapiversary.
Merry You-mas.
Congrats on your little bundle of you.
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