This is me trying. Trying to find a new way, recognizing that the old way wasn’t working. Leaving behind an old identity. An old set of rules in favor of a new birth, rebirth, aggressively sought after alternative ending. I’m emerging as a new person, despite my unrelenting efforts to cling to what was.

Two months ago, I risked it all when I abandoned life as a lawyer, the only life I’d ever known. The life I’d spent decades building at the expense of so many important moments and memories. Since law school orientation, I’d worked overtime trying to orient my mind around the reality that I’d never be like them, bending and breaking myself to blend into a world that made no effort to accept me. It never fit. Or rather, I never fit.

So, I quit. And left my job to become a writer. I risked a step away from a carefully curated career in favor of a move toward an existence that would actually set my soul on fire. I made bold proclamations about not going back and cautiously counted coins and considered logistics, ways I’d support my family in the “in between.”

I thought on it. I prayed on it. I cried about it. I built momentum and discovered joy during daunting days of exploration. I found myself, lost her again, and laughed at the beauty of the journey. I spoke in a loud voice, one years in the making and I summoned the confidence to risk it all…again…and burn it to the ground, with the hopes of emerging from the ashes a battle tested phoenix. And I felt calmer than I expected.

Two months ago, I cut ties with reliable income, pronounced paths, predictable promotions, private planes, and bank-breaking bonuses. Two months ago, I bet on me. And I went to bed at night excited about who I was becoming, eager (for the first time) at the start of each day. I felt fulfilled. Full. Focused. Certain.

Two months ago, I ended it on my terms.

Three days later, I went out for a run and woke up in an ambulance. Brain injured. Memory erased. Creative vision demolished. Dreams crushed. Speech altered. Disoriented and disillusioned, I opened my eyes to the end of my new life. The death of my fresh start. The denial of the woman I’d fought to become.

Three days later, I realized that the fight was only just beginning when life brought me to my knees. Three days later, I cried real tears that burned my face and blurred my vision as they exited my weary eyes. Three days later, I realized that the best laid plans are, at times, the ones you must painfully and practically cast to the side.

Three days later, my life changed forever.

But today, I write again. I’ve picked up the pen to see what I can produce. This is my redemption story. Ending unknown.

This is me, bloody, bruised, but brave. This is me not easily broken. This is me, trying…

Headline:
People say leaving is the hardest part. It’s not. But it is a very terrifying first step. In the middle of the night, I took my three kids and fled to escape the hell that had become our home. This is my experience that night. This is my first step.

I Watch Them Sleep
Inside me roars the sort of storm that brings about terror.
My spirit is shrunken, sunken, cowering, and endangered.
But outside I appear calm, like the quiet, cool night around us.
No visible, telling signs of distress, aside from my trembling hands.

My respiration was shallow; so tensely forced and controlled
Intentionally labored to stop my chest from heaving
Total silence, despite the loud heartbeat pulsating in my ears
I must remain stoic; they can’t know I’m terrified of leaving.

The three pairs of little feet in a row lined up right behind me
Are bouncing atop boxes and bags chaotically piled on the floorboard
I can’t let them know the truth; that they are in a nightmare wide-awake
I already fear any sense of safety will not be granted to them anymore.

Holding my breath, statue stiff, I need to get out of the driveway.
And brief relief does brush past me, when pulling into the street.
A freedom short-lived, as my mind hastily races in a circular motion
Where are we going? What am I doing? The plan stopped at, we leave

Under the protection of the dark, secretly we move with no destination
Trusting, innocent, defenseless littles fully dependent on my sanity
The weight of that is not lost on me. Its reality is hopelessly crushing.
But this perilous escape is for them and could not be done politely.

The soft chatter continues, as I pull into a big, empty parking lot.
I must get myself together and pull out at least one useful thought.
They will be restless soon, and I need to make this appear normal.
Think! What is the next right thing? I must move. It is too late to stop.

No chance for an answer, as I am heaved back in the moment by a voice.
A soft, small voice behind me finally asks, “Mommy are you ok?”.
And just like, I remember who I am to them. Head up, shoulders back
Reaching back to try to provide uncertain reassurance and to myself pray

Unlike other times, I feel many little fingers grab back, so tightly.
Turning around, I see all our hands are a messy constellation of love.
My heart starts to glow. It’s now burning; strength quickly returning
My bruised-up hands no longer shake; I place them on the wheel.

I put on a song. Try to sing along and get us to a safe place for tonight.
Pushing a cumbersome cart heavy with piles of stuff; a toddler on top.
I look like a drunken clown as the exhaustion is almost incapacitating
Hitting anything stationary; picking up loose items as even more drop

Finally, ungracefully we pass through the threshold of our temporary home
There is this glaring oddity. The littles seem so carefree after so much pain.
I realize then, that the absence of fear allows the once joyful child to return.
They lay down without resistance, unlike other nights, another change

I dig through the mess for a book to read before bed, as was our routine.
In what seems like minutes, all three heads are down and sleeping deeply.
The first easy breath comes; though I know the worst is yet to come
I am no longer powerless. Finally, at peace, I sit; I sit and watch them sleep.

Turning back the clock. To where I was never the same. I found myself alone in the woods. Locked in battle with my mind. Where the voices drove me onward till at last lost. Lost to a fake reality. Subjected to cruelty of their words. All out of my sanity. Then forced to be locked away. Without knowing why. Thinking loved ones forsaken me. That heaven was going to reject me. The devil was on the prowl. Yes!!! Forever changed by that nightmare. To be withdrawn into myself. But also more humble and kind. Never ill wishing towards anyone. To stop and listen. To think before I speak. Never judge anyone’s circumstances. To find a quiet resilience. A strength I never knew I had. Learning that the mind can be a dangerous place. But with the right help can change anything around.