I stand in a pile of ashes. Those ashes are all that remain of the life I once knew. Forces outside of my control have broken my world and burned it to the ground. And I could do nothing but watch.
Everything has changed. I must rebuild and discover who I am again. Who is the person that I see in the mirror every morning? What makes her tick?
Who am I, now that I have to stand alone? What will I have to face without the strength of the love I once had? Will I be able to survive, to rebuild a stronger haven in which to rest from my trials and tribulations that the world throws at me?
I am being told that I am strong, that I have done so much to recover in such a short amount of time. It doesn't seem like it to me. I am only doing what I need to do in order to make it to the next day. Maybe that is what makes me strong: doing what I need to do in order for me and Oscar to survive and thrive.
I do not feel like I am in a tunnel of darkness any more, with the full fury of a train baring down upon me. It feels like I am walking through a forest, at times dense and uncertain, sometimes sunlight streams gently through the canopy.
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