It’s been nearly 8 months since I decided to make the life changing decision to say goodbye to my old life, and start on something new and unknown.  The most notable change is that the frequency of me having to tell “my story” has gone down significantly.  I’ve run into maybe two or three people who still want to know, but I have come to a point in my life where “my story” is no longer “my story.” 

Sorry for the ambiguity, new folks, but I’d rather not go into the details of my past life.  In short, up until 8 months ago, I spent my life being an “and Cheena”; simply put, I was in a relationship.  After nine years of being with the same person, I decided to embark on a new life where I recreated myself as an individual rather than a half of a whole. 

Since the beginning of 2010, I’ve completely drowned myself in work; in fact, I’ve taken a lot more responsibility at my 9-5 and outside of that as well.  In a perfect world, my newfound work ethic would have kept me out of the drama of relationiships, but that, OF COURSE, has not been true.  Being that I was coming off of a co-dependent relationship, it was inevitable that I was going to fall into the same emotional trap that I was in prior. 

So there was this boy.  No details.  People read this.  Just an announcement:  For the first time in YEARS, I actually allowed my heart to feel; as a result, I had my heart broken for the first time since I was 17.  Congratulations, boy. 

I am not angry or biter.  I’m not even sad anymore.  I’ve just come to another point of reflection:  I have failed at healing.  In an effort to forget the past, I have simply put numerous bandaids on a festering wound.  I have been working too hard, playing just as hard, and basically lying to myself and abusing myself so that I wouldn’t have to face the fact that I am vulnerable. 

And the one time I chose to be vulnerable, I added one more notch to an undeserving person’s belt, and I put myself two steps backwards in my healing process.  However, while I have known this for weeks, I still have one minor setback:  I don’t think I’m sure I know HOW to begin healing.  Time?  Therapy?  Relocation?  In my opinion, these are all synonyms for “bandaid”. 

So in 8 months, the enigma remains.  While I’m no longer in mourning, I am still having to deal with the after affects of losing my past life, but I don’t know how to go about dealing.  I think I will start with this fact:  pretending that my wounds are gone is only hindering my actual ability to heal.  I don’t have to sit and dwell or cry over them; I just need to accept that I have a long way to go.  I wont find happiness until I am able to create it completely from within without the help of any external entities. 

But will I continue to work hard?  Yes.  Will I continue to play just as hard?  Yes.  Yes, I will continue to abuse myself until the wounds don’t hurt.  But from this point on, I will no longer lie to myself.  And this is what will make all the difference.  A toast: To thine ownself be true.  *salud*