Get Over It.

I was told recently, that I really should be “over it already.  It’s been two years, I mean really.”

I have no idea what the reasonable amount of time is to get over 15 years of unrequited love and endless failed attempts to be worthy and 14 years of losing myself completely in the blissful hell of child rearing and happy homemaking, with no one there to love me enough not to let me do that myself.   But I do know that it is not two years.

Add to that, having to shatter my family/most prized possession, and the painful burden of bearing sole responsibility for all of their tears and frustrations, and feeling single handedly responsible for rebuilding us, with all our fractures, strong enough to bear the weight of my guilt and to take anything life throws at us.

Add to that, haunting memories of our perfect family and our happiest times, happy enough to shield me from all my sacrifices.

Add to that, losing a large group of loved ones I once called family.

Add to that, meeting a man or two who couldn’t seem to resist falling in love with me despite all my warnings that I’m hard to love now, and who believed that any man who let me get away when he had an even better, loyal, less broken version of me in the palm of his hand was a fool.

Add to that, knowing that I’m very hard to love now...

and suddenly it feels like a life sentence.

Happier, hopeful, healing, slightly less jaded and bitter? Yes.

Over it?  Hell no.