It’s garbage day, and I’m sending away my filth. It isn’t real, anyway.
I watched a show about a young girl who had been abducted and forced to live chained in a closet and have sex with her captor. She escaped once, and they asked her why she didn’t go home, why she returned to the man who’d enslaved her.
She said that she’d gone home, but she couldn’t go in. She sat outside, feeling too dirty to go inside.
I feel like this. I feel dirty.
The filth of my past is keeping me from living in my now. Now, I’m okay. I’m not making any monumentally bad choices. I don’t even drink caffeine. Honestly, I’m a clean, sober, vegetarian who doesn’t smoke or eat carbs or sugar and I’ve given up caffeine.
Can we talk about clean? I’m not the filth. I’m a shining example to my children. To most children, really. Still, I won’t go home because of what I’ve been through. Memories that haunt me, people I wish I’d never met, and there I was, just trying to make everyone happy.
I need to let go of this dirty feeling. I’m dirty only in the ways I choose to be now, not in the ways I was forced to be to keep other people happy. I’m free, happy, clean and perfect in all of my flaws.
I’m sending away this filthy feeling that prevents me from loving myself. I’m not my marriage. I’m definitely not my last relationship. In not my past mistakes. I’m not my shortcomings. This garbage day I’m sending away the feeling that keeps me from going home.
ongarbageday.com
You are heard. I want to give you advice, but you didn’t ask for it. I’ve been there in filthy dirty places of the heart. I used to call it “slumming.” I found some new shiny places. Hit me up if you need directions to get there. Love your confessions, your writing.
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