I lost myself years ago. How many years, I’m not sure. I can’t really tell you the last time I felt like I had a ‘home’, a sense of self, or a sense of belonging. Somewhere along the lines, I stopped living for myself and started living for others. I no longer fought against the abusive control that was my parents and allowed my depression to consume me every day, like a hungry wolf feasting on the remains of my former self. The longer I stayed down, submissive to the bullshit, the farther I sunk into the drowning waters that stifled my screams and pulled me down to their depths. There came a point of acceptance when my lungs no longer prompted me to rise above the water and resuscitate my dying soul. I was a mere black silhouette submerged in the darkest of waters, with no name and no face, relying on my conscience to keep me company amidst the deafening silence.
…And then along came Edward.
My life changed forever the day I met him.
His voice cut through my drowning waters, pierced my ears, and awoke my soul. I found my feet no longer felt tethered to the ocean floor and my body was remembering how to swim. At first, all I could offer was a baby kick and some paddling, but he had me swimming in strokes in no time at all.