When the dust settled and the smoke cleared, I was alone. My princess, the one I worked so hard to save, had betrayed me. She’d sold me out to the enemy of loneliness and I was bound by the chains of heartache, held in the prison of good intentions. I looked down at myself, busted and bleeding profusely from every wound I’d ever gotten. They were all noticeable now, glaring back at me saying…”this is it, you've suffered long enough, we won’t survive this one, not unless a miracle comes”.
I don’t know whether it was the right time, or just the right combination of events, advice from well–meaning friends, and a few bottles of organic beer. But a sudden moment of clarity took me over. If I wanted to get out of this mess, break from these chains and storm my way out of my self–made prison, I’d need a new perspective. No one was coming to save me. There was no knight in shining armor. My princess was long gone and would not offer aid. I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my eyes, and decided I’d be my own miracle. I looked grief in the eye and said, “I’m ready.” Grief, the surgeon to the lost, cut me wide open, removed all the faulty wiring, and gave me a new chance.
A chance to become my own hero.”