Escape the Maze

Nine months. That's a long time. It's how long you have to wait, from the time a baby is conceived, until they are born. People die and live in nine months. Nine months is a rebirth. Today is my nine month mark. Not for a baby, nor for graduation, a birthday, or another common celebration. Nine months ago today, I was stressed, I was pressured, I was sad and depressed. Nine months ago, I cut myself. This is not a celebration of my self harm, but the opposite! I have not hurt myself in nine months, and have not even had urges in almost that long. I have changed and improved so much in the last nine months. I have become a different person. I found who I am, who I want to be, I've found my real friends and grown closer to them than ever. I started this blog, I continued writing, I proceeded with therapy. I learned some guitar, some French, and a little more Spanish. I read books and wrote stories, I escaped the maze I'd been roaming for years. Nine months may not see...

This weekend I did one of the hardest things I've done in a while. I talked to my ex, my abuser, the boy who stole three years of my life. For a while, my therapist has been telling me that the only way to truly get closure from everything that's happened is to confront him. I didn't really believe her, saying that I had moved past it and was ready to continue with my life. For a month or two, I insisted I was fine, changing the subject every time we started talking about him. On Friday, my best friend M really woke me, as usual, to the contradictions of my preaching. I tell everyone to stand up for themselves, be strong, be honest, to firmly leave the past in the past. Yet I hadn't followed my own advice. I was terrified at just the thought of opposing E, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Why shouldn't I finally stand up to him? I realized I had a lot to say to him, so many pent up emotions, yet it was all bottled inside. That was really the stra...