Have you ever been so angry that you can feel it — sitting right under your skin, pulsing like a second heartbeat?
No? Just me?

Because lately, that’s where I live.

I don’t know if it’s the stress, the trauma, or the ghosts of the past catching up to me. Probably all of it. Either way, it’s there — simmering just beneath the surface.

The Aftermath

I’ve been dealing with a lot lately.
And while I joke about drowning it in a bottle of wine (already tried that method — didn’t work), I finally did something smarter.

I started therapy.

Only two sessions in, and I’m already realizing just how deep some of this stuff goes. The breakup with Kerry — and his death that followed — took a much bigger toll on me than I ever wanted to admit.

I used to tell myself I was doing right by him.
That taking care of him, protecting him, keeping him alive through his addiction was love.

But it wasn’t.

It was survival.
And somewhere in that process, I lost myself.

When you’re in it, you don’t see it.
You normalize the chaos.
You call it “love” because you can’t bear to call it what it really is — abuse.

He was destroying himself, and I let him destroy me too.

The Anger Beneath the Surface

Now that he’s gone — and the abuse is over — I’m left holding all the emotional debris.
And it’s not just him. Old family wounds have started bubbling up too, making me feel raw in ways I didn’t expect.

The anger that comes with that?
It’s heavy. Unpredictable. Almost feral.

Some days it feels like it might burst through my skin.
Other days, it just sits there, simmering.

But I know what it really is: pain I never dealt with.

The Work Begins

I’m learning. Slowly.
I’m starting to see my worth again. To remember that I deserve peace — not punishment.

And for the people still in my life who cross boundaries or take advantage — trust me, their day is coming. (Yes, I’m talking about two people in particular. You know who you are.)

I’m not out for revenge. I’m out for freedom.

Rebuilding Me

Finding myself again is going to take time. I know that.
But I also know I’ll get there.

Hopefully without leaving any bodies behind. (Kidding. Mostly. LMAO.)

The truth is, I don’t need someone else to complete me.
I need to complete myself.

I need to love me — all of me — before I can ever really let someone else in again.

It’s a big lesson, but it’s one worth learning.
Because I’m done repeating the same cycle.

This time, I’m standing on the edge — but I’m facing forward.

— Standing on the Edge