Time to start.

I'm finally getting around to sharing my thoughts. My grandmother, known to me as "Nanny" and one of my best friends in the world, has been urging me to get my thoughts on paper for some time now.

I’m not sure where to start. I guess I start with where I am right now.

I’m sitting in a bedroom I’ve lived in for about a month now. A bedroom that is not mine, it’s merely borrowed, or more accurately rented. I do have a home, but I can’t access it right now. More on that later.

My life looks wildly different now than just 8 weeks ago - if you compared the two you’d be convinced they were the lives of two very different people. Yet here I am.

Back then I was living a life based on a love that I chose. I considered. I undertook green light therapy for. I made decisions based on.

That love turned out to be radically different from what I originally encountered. In fact it wasn’t until around a year or so into that love that things truly started to unravel….no that isn’t the right word. Things started to skip a beat. And not in the good way when your heart flutters. Things became fragmented. So real and sure one day. So broken and frightening the next.

There were small signs…very subtle. The first time I shared an intimate detail about my own story resulted a reaction of silence…for hours, and then overnight. A complete disengagement and inability to even formulate a response. The other party seemed so caught up in their own head that they forgot I’d just shared some pretty epic details of a trauma from a previous time. It felt awful for me, but not because the trauma was still raw. I’d spent years in intermittent therapy dealing with that. But because there seemed to be a complete lack of consistency in the human I was dealing with at the time. He was so engaged, so attentive to me. And then suddenly in his own head, about this experience of mine, from years ago. For me, his reaction planted a seed in my stomach that would eventually turn into a pit that grew and grew until it outgrew me and I was left, a broken mess of trying to contain it, and failing miserably.

This reaction and subsequent breakaway was the beginning of many like it, unfortunately growing in both frequency and strength.

The triggers to set it in motion seemed to be random too. I couldn’t quite figure out what sent him to resent me and criticise me, after showing me such vulnerability and presence. What I did come to know for sure is as surely as the sun would shine on the love we shared, the storms would always follow. And those storms grew to become hurricanes that tore destruction through our home.

You see, the problem now is that the hurricane itself does not truly remember the destruction it caused. It starts as a small current that sets itself in motion and it transforms into a raging wind that spares nothing in its’ path. Once exhausted its’ energy, it resumes a calm state.

The people are left to try and make sense of what just obliterated them. Fresh wounds, blood stains on the ground, they slowly rise to gain their steadiness on calm ground.