It’s garbage day, and it’s New Year’s Eve. It’s the last day of a very challenging and rewarding year. I will leave this year with my hands still sticky with my own blood. I have damn near destroyed, definitely tortured, hurt, broken and disassembled myself.
On this, the most important garbage day of the year, I’m sending away the scalpel I’ve used to dissect myself. I’ve had enough. Some days all I do is slice myself apart, and I think I’ve taken it as far as I’m willing to go.
Sure, I’ve developed some negative behaviors over a lifetime, unhealthy coping mechanisms I needed in order to survive. But I’m here, I’m aware, I’m okay. I don’t need to beat myself up anymore for the mistakes I’ve made. I need to put down the scalpel, leave the operating room, and experience life outside.
It’s a new decade, and I’m going forward with love. I used to wonder if crazy people knew they were crazy. In my case, I didn’t know until I did. It took some really bad choices to show me that I needed to change, an emotional rock bottom.
Twenty twenty is going to be fantastic. I’m going to get cleaned up, straighten my tiara, and I’m going to be really nice to myself. I’m going to say no to so many things, and I’m going to say yes to even more.
It’s garbage day, and I’m sending away the demolition crew. It’s time to rebuild.
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