There are many things I could do right now.
Some of them aren’t physically possible, like running away for a few weeks, which is what the old me would have done.
Living here in this house, in my life would have been too much for a younger me.
I would have tried to blank it out with friends, gin and too many cigarrettes only to be awake at 3am wondering why.
I’d potentially throw out everything I could to make the pain go away.
I’d clean and clean and clean, until my hands were red raw and had dry patches.
I’d sit and wait for the tears to come.
But that is the old me.
Look at that, I’m already growing.
I’m stronger than that.
I’m realising running gets me nowhere.
If I’m always running I’ll end up having nowhere left to go.
So I will stay.
I will stand.
I will wait.
I am good at waiting.
But I will not wait forever.
I am making changed to my life.
I will not do things to make others happy any more.
After all, I’m the person I have to live with long after everyone else is gone. Makes sense to make ME the happiest