1179

10:44 a. m. rAnita nOe 0 Comments



I am stripping layers of feelings trying to understand the fears that assault me, that I don't recognise, but make my feel insecure and unprotected against my own thoughts. 

A year has gone by and it still hurts. And now that I'm getting to know someone else I find myself wondering if the history is going to repeat it self. 

I don't miss you. I don't miss us. What I do miss is the assurance of God's guidance. 
I know that He is guiding me now, but the uncertainty that you left behind has made me try to secure my heart, hide it from harm, as if I could do such thing on my own. 

Doubt creeps from the depths of my mind, am I good enough? Will this person see me behind my flaws? Will he love me just for who I am? 

And for a moment I forget that I am voluntarily not in control, nor I intend to be. I have to conciously chose not to hurt for the damage that you left behind. 

So I pray, to my Dad above. Father fill my heart with praise to You so I can't hear the noise that my own thoughts are bringing to my life. 
You are my happines, either way. You know me, You love me, and I'm scared and hurt, but you can turn my pain into joy. Heal my broken heart, because I don't want to hide trying to protect myself. I don't want to hold anything inside, I want to be free to love just as You love me, incommensurable and unconditional love. I can't do this on my own. You are the only one I can trust, I can't even trust myself. My strengh comes from You. 

N.






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1178

10:21 a. m. rAnita nOe 0 Comments


How am I going to tell you everything if I don't even know you yet?

How will I be able to explain the depth of the change that the fucking cancer has brought to my life?
And it's not only about having one less ovary, or the scars, or the tattoo.

Hello, I'm Noemi and I had cancer.
Oh, and I have, probably, PTSD.

That's not a conversation starter that I want to use.

And yet, somehow, I carry this bit of conversation around, waiting for the perfect moment to say it, if there's a "perfect" moment.

I do things differently now. I care more and I care less. More for those persons that I love, those things that I like and those memories that I want to have. And less for time wasting things, time wasting people.

The pain, the fear, the what if it's back. The sleepless nights, the tears, the wait. You were not there, I wsih you had so I wouldn't have to tell you about it. Maybe the changes in me wouldn't have been that deep if you'd been there.

I've been always bold, now I'm bolder. And you, mate, will have to like that.

N.

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