As much as it guts me to think there was ever a version of me like that, it also makes me grateful as fuck to know that not only have I survived it, I also persevered. That terrified and broken version of me that frantically scrawled in that illegible metaphor, still found some form of will to say, “I deserve better”.

At the end of the day, despite what anyone says, everything is a choice: Action, inaction, avoidance, reaction, response, showing up or walking away. All choices. I certainly make and own mine and it is a lot more peaceful on this openly flowing side, that spaces out more freely. There comes a moment where an act of surrender is the bravest choice of all. People celebrate anniversaries for joyous and momentous occasions – despite the ache, tears and blood, this is just as much one of mine.