Over the course of my healing and self‑awareness — and trust me, I have a long way to go — I’ve thought a lot about my wants. My desires for a normal, stable life. The longing to feel loved, wanted, special. Always there. Always present. Never quite fulfilled.
And on the rare occasions something good does show up, I stare at it in doubt. In disbelief. In that familiar, numbing nothing good ever happens to me indifference.
Then I met a man. Someone I didn’t expect. The perfect combination of looks, intelligence, manners, and actual kindness. Chivalry wasn’t dead after all. He was the pot of gold at the end of my tornado.
But now what? How do I navigate something I’ve never known? How do I behave? Am I even deserving?
It doesn’t feel right. It’s uncomfortable. And therefore, in my mind, it can’t possibly be safe.
It’s tragic — this total mistrust of the unknown. Always doubting it’s real, trustworthy, stable. Always expecting the ugly side to appear just as you reach for it. There has to be a dark side somewhere, hiding like a tiger ready to pounce.
There’s the disbelief that it’s actually happening to you — the person who’s been knocked to their knees so many times they just stay there.
The unknown is frightening. It’s like walking blindly through the dark, waiting to trip over something sharp. The red flag hidden just beyond sight. I would feel safer if I just stopped. If I stayed still. If I didn’t risk anything at all.
But it gains momentum anyway, hurling you toward the unfamiliar — which can only mean doom, right?
And then, without even realizing it, you sabotage it. You throw it away because it’s not what you’re used to, and therefore unsafe. Too much risk to trust the unknown. So you run. Sprint for the door. Escape before it can hurt you.
Because this is a life I don’t know how to survive. I don’t know how to fit in. I don’t know how to just blindly accept good at face value.
Not yet.
Scared, but trying anyway,
K.
I'm Still Here. Somehow... 