Three days. That’s how many days it took me to get back to this post.
It’s been 15 years since I’ve blogged under the n3rdie “brand”. To be completely honest, it was always my favorite. n3rdie is a nod to a time when I was kinda free and wild. When I pretended to not care about what other people thought about me. When I was encouraged by the blogging community to express myself daily and be who I am without consequence.
Yesterday, my daughter asked me a question:
If you could go back to any age, which would you choose and why?
I said 16 and that I’d tell her why when she’s a little older… She’s 8, if you’re wondering.
Simply put, 16 was the beginning of bad life choices. It’s not a secret that I grew up sheltered. 16 was the age I started working. I got exposure to people from different walks of life and it seemed like I was missing out on so much. It was the year I started lying to my parents… The year I lost my virginity… The year I had my first pregnancy scare… The year I experienced my first abusive relationship… The year I experienced heartbreak. Just…so much for a young person who didn’t know much of anything about… anything. Even if I went back to that age, if I can’t take what I know now back with me, it would be pointless. Because the truth is, I didn’t know anyone back then who had a healthy relationship with love and sex. I made my life hard, unnecessarily, but I have so many experiences that I would not have gotten otherwise. What I can do is reflect and do better for my daughter. I want so much more for her. I want to teach her the things that my mother couldn’t teach me.
I’ve spent the past few days reading through old posts from those years, and the one thing that stood out is that I’m here because of me. Yes, there was some shit that happened to me that shouldn’t have. Yes, I felt unloved and unwanted by many, but the people around me did their best. I didn’t physically want for anything. I’ve always just wanted to feel wanted… To feel like I mattered… To feel like I was someone’s priority…
I’m so fucked up. I want all these things that I can’t even give. I want to give them, but where do I even start? By starting over with someone new? Or am I supposed to right the wrongs that I’ve done? *deep sigh*
Point is: Without healing, dysfunction breeds more dysfunction. I’m so grateful that I’ve been able to embrace therapy. I know what I need to do and I just need to do the shit.