We're worried about you.

Huh. (Enter shake of the head here).
On a scale of 1-10 I'd say the turmoil in my life ranks at about a 3.5.
I'm tired. I wake up every morning at 5am. Take my daily Lexapro to get things started off right. I work my ass off all day. I go to the gym after work. I fight traffic. I go home. Possibly deal with a migraine. Clean my house. Drink a glass of wine. Maybe 2. On the weekends, maybe 3.
I AM TWENTY FIVE years old for goodness sakes. I think I have my shit together. I own a house, a have a nice car, a job I truly enjoy, a family that I love.
I am not miserable. God, I just wish I could take the ones who are "concerned" about me back about 5 years. Then they would know what Brittney being miserable looks like. I was a mess back then. I hated my life. But you know what? Things have changed.
Of course I deal with daily struggles. What person doesn't? Specifically I have dealt with Ben's drinking problem. Sure it has gotten me down. It is hard to be a family member of someone who struggles with alcoholism. But he tries. It's a struggle for him too. He's has done so well lately. He has been so considerate. He has tried so damn hard. So tell me you're concerned, fine! I can understand how friends are concerned, but do they not realize that it is easier to bitch about someone than it is to commend them.? It's human nature. We need to vent. We need to get out the things that stress us out. I never once meant for my life to seem like it's a bunch of hell- a life I don't want to be in. Because if that's what you think- than you are wrong. Very, very wrong.

So the day has finally come

Today was the day that I spoke with the person who has plagued so many of my days and caused so much havoc in my life and disrupted my emotional well being. Today I answered the phone and she was on the other end of the line. She spoke with a sweet voice and a gentle tone and when she said who she was I felt my face go white and did all I could to keep my composure.
She apologized. She took the time to explain to me so many questions that were never answered. And I listened. And I thanked her.
I wish I could shake it off. I wish so badly that I could just "let it be the past" like he tells me it was.
He's said it was all so long ago. Said it was all just a stupid mistake. But in fact, she did not just consume my life, but his as well. Whether it was just something he did for fun, or something he did because it was meaningful. It was something; the reason why I will constantly question and constantly fear that it will happen again.
I am so full of emotions right now I can't even get them out on paper. I can't begin to express the garble that is going through my brain right now. For him, she is his past. For me, her presence in the past makes it part of my present.

In a year, there is a season for each feeling; a feeling for each thought; a thought for each experience.
Winter, spring, summer or fall- all you've got to do is call. You know the rest.
Yet in each season, no matter which suits you best, there is a promising storm. Always unexpected and not usually welcome.
Stuck inside. Left to wonder when this visitor will be on his way.
You stand at your window- watching, waiting. Wanting for this downpour to pass.
And you think.
You think. Reminesce of memories past. Dwell on current hardships. Wish. Pray. Hope.
The storms give us time if nothing else. Time to mentally take a break from the day in which we struggle. Time to walk over to an old record player and watch the black vinyl dance on a needle. Time to look into a snow globe at the mesmorizing specks of glitter that worlds ago was to you- prancing fairies if held against the light. Time to open up jewlery boxes and place old chains around our necks. Time to look into the mirror and remember what it was like the first time these jewels adorned you.
And we stop. And for a time, all is forgotten.
The storm has moved on to offer a break to another.
Winter, spring, summer or fall. You know the rest.