That’s the definition of grief.

At least that’s the epiphany I had driving home this evening from my women’s leadership group. There is no hard and set rule that says grief has to relate to death. When my Dr told me there is something I need to grieve, I immediately started trying to figure out who died that I hadn’t properly come to terms with. It seems it wasn’t about death at all. Tonight, we were discussing the metaphors in a picture each of us was asked to draw. Long story short: It’s not a death I need to deal with, it’s my past. My history. My story.

I’ve allowed the emotional chaos I was born into to limit my own self-worth. I’m not sure how comfortable I am blogging the details of the things I’ve gone through and witnessed but I need to come up with a solid plan to process all of it and begin the process of releasing all of it and learn to live my life without the weight of it crushing me anymore.

Nowhere to start except the beginning, no better time than now.

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