When I started my journey as a wife and mother, I was excited for the future, for new beginnings, new love, new paths, and new directions. I packed away the past, hoping never to have to revisit or relive any part of it. I knew this time was going to be different. I was going to be different; the people in my life would be different. Little did I know that this was just a detour, a fork in the road, another path, another heartbreak. I had to find my way back, back to me, to what I knew was true. I went through boxes, backpacks, drawers, and cabinets to find past journals. Many, if not all of them, partially written in with stories that should have ended but yet continued. Each journal was telling the same story, just another moment in time, none of them giving me any insight into who I was or why I continued making the same choices.
I have had many journeys in my lifetime, but the journey that mattered the most was the one that led me back to me.
