known

Most people know me because I tried to kill myself.

It’s a very complicated legacy to come to terms with.

I don’t want to write about it all the time - I am broken in so many more ways than that.

I am healed in ways I never believed possible.

We’re approaching the one year anniversary of my attempt.

One year ago, there was a shadow following me everywhere. His hand gripped the back of my neck and he whispered sweet, sickly nothings into my ear. He followed me into my car and my job and my old boss’s eyes. He swirled around me, consuming me in his black smoke until there was nothing left but a girl once again collapsing violently inward on the bathroom floor.

This year, I published my second book. I competed on a national stage. I am recovering. I am in therapy. I have a job that I enjoy. I live with the love of my life and our two cats. I have so many plans for the next few years.

Now, I fear upsetting the delicate peace that I have created. I fear awakening the shadow again. I fear opening my eyes and seeing the bathroom ceiling.

I’m not sure what the point of this is. I guess I’m just trying to say that I’m trying, I really am.

I’m trying to be a good writer and artist and poet and barista and friend and daughter and girlfriend and sister and person. I’m trying to live up to the impact of An Apology to my Cat. I’m trying to be worthy of it. I’m trying to write through the bad stuff and I’m trying not to cry too hard.

I think it will be worth it, in the end. I think my anthology of work will be important to someone, somewhere, in some timeline.

For the first time, I hope for the future.

I do/ I do/ I do/