Cracking my chamber of secrets

“One need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place”. -Emily Dickinson

What haunts you? This question intrigued me on the list of prompts this week. But I was also grooving on the six word memoir (write about a significant time in your life in just six words). For some reason, both of these prompts brought me to the same topic, which is a little strange because its not something I think about on a daily basis. But it's what popped into my head, and that is what prompts are all about - triggering a thought process you can write about.

So what is it that haunts me?

My first love.

Not my first boyfriend, because I loved him in that cute teenager way. My first true, all consuming, I-will-do-anything-for-you sort of love. It was love in its most raw form. I fell hard for this guy. Had it been a longer relationship, I could have totally and completely lost myself in that love; I would have sacrificed everything for him. It wasn't one sided, he loved me too. Just not enough.

I realize as I look back on it that it wasn't healthy, the way I felt. The way I would have given up anything for him still freaks me out, makes me worried for my younger self. Its the way my life would be different now if it hadn't ended, that is what haunts me.

The thing I try and remember, when thoughts of him surface, is the strength it took to walk away at the end, the strength it took to survive it. Moving on was hard, it took me years to really trust anyone again. But when it all ended there was that moment of truth, the moment I try and hold on to, when it didn't occur to me that I could do anything but tell him to leave. Even though it hurt, even though I'd never had to do anything so hard, even though it just about killed me to do it, I watched him walk away without a thought of chasing after him.

And I survived it.

I hated him him with a passion that surprises me still. I can remember thinking over and over again that if he didn't come back to me, if he didn't want me, there wasn't a chance in hell I was ever going to speak to him again. I deserved better. I am proud of the fact that when I had to walk away I was able to. That I found the strength not to beg, not to be 'that girl', the one who keeps calling, who keeps coming back for more hurt. I cried and I hurt and I crumbled, but I survived. I need to hold on to that.

As I reflect on this short but powerful relationship, the thought that truly haunts me is not so much the guy. It is that without this experience, without the heartache and the hurt, I would not be where I am today. Because of this hurt, because it ended at work and I couldn't stand the memories there anymore, I asked for a transfer. Because of this hurt, I walked in to that new job and met the men that would change my life forever. I met the man I would later marry.

I am thankful that it ended. And that because of that ending, because I had the strength and the foresight to make some changes, remove the reminders and start a new chapter, because of all these things, I got to start over. I got to start a new, healthier chapter in my life.

The past does haunt me, because for so long I wanted to go back to the good times before the hurt, before I had to grow up.

As I have sat here drafting and redrafting and trying to sort out my thoughts, I am determined to refocus that memory, to remember only the lessons. It's time to allow myself to rest easy knowing that I made the right choice. I hurt for my younger self, but realize too that without that hurt I wouldn't be where I am today. And I like where I am, and who I am here with. My husband. My kids. My family and friends. The ups and downs I have now are survivable. They don't break me because I am not in it alone, and I know that buried inside me is a reserve of strength that I sometimes forget that I have.

My six words? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Okay, that's seven. But who's counting?