Letter to a Former Self: Part 2

Dear-Freshly-Re-married-Sarah,

I know you just smashed the teapot into the kitchen floor as your insides screamed,

"Why the FUCK did I sign up for this, again?"

I know you are now sweeping up the glass and the water in a house that is yours but doesn't feel like it.  You want to cry but you can't...not yet.

I know you're afraid that you will loose control and get fat and he won't love you.  I know you still have secrets, even from yourself.

Please know, this will never be easy.  It's not supposed to get easy.  I am writing this to you 9 years down the road with this man, and I still get scared.  I still look over at him sometimes and think he is a stranger.
I have since become at peace with this.  Because I realize that although we are married, we are separate people having separate experiences.  I will never know what it feels like for Andrew to love Sarah, and he will never know what I experience when I watch him sleep.

Over time you will move out from your "spot."  The spot where you lay your head on his tattooed chest and he is your savior.
Right now at 9 years I no longer need him, I only want him, and this is scary.

But what I really want to tell you is:   whatever truth is in you keep expressing it.

And if you need to break dishes - break dishes.
I may go home and break dishes right now just so that my soul can make noise.  So I do not become so functional that I don't recognize myself.

I also want you to know that it's okay to have doubt.
It's okay to yell at your kids.
It's okay to swing on the swing set and wish it would disconnect at the chains and send you up into the wide blue.
It's okay to join a writing group and tell unflattering stories about your own life.
It's okay to want to run beyond your own house.
And if when your legs stop running, you sob from a place deeper than words into the twilight rain, just say thank you.

The most important thing for you to know is:  none of these impulses are anyone's fault.
This lion in you has always been there.  Just look at your orange mane, and you'll know.
When she roars it is deafening, and it is vital.

So far, when the roar recedes he still loves you, and you still find comfort in your spot.