Can I Start Looking at My Future Now?

Maybe I can finally start looking at my future.

Not the future I've been afraid of. Not the one where I'm still stuck in this mess, still replaying old conversations, still wondering why things happened the way they did.

No. I want to look further. 

Past all of this. Past the heartbreak. Past the betrayal.

Past the financial mess. Past the silence. Past the version of me that has been hiding behind the ruins of a life that didn't turn out the way I thought it would.

I want to see her. The woman on the other side of this. Maybe she's stronger.

Actually… Not maybe. She is stronger.  Maybe she's a little meaner too.

And honestly? Good. 😂

Not cruel. Just… less available for bullshit.

She's learned that being kind doesn't mean letting people walk all over her.

She's learned that forgiveness doesn't require giving someone the keys to the house again.

She's learned that loving someone doesn't mean abandoning herself.

She's learned things the hard way. The really, really hard way.

But she's still here. And I can see her now. She's social again.

She's laughing. She's surrounded by people.

She doesn't hide in her room pretending she's okay when she's actually falling apart.

She goes out. She meets people. She makes plans.

She travels. She calls her friends. She shows up at family gatherings.

She laughs until her stomach hurts. 

She complains about stupid things. She takes too many pictures.

She probably still overthinks everything. 

Let's not expect miracles. 😂

But she's living. Actually living. 

And maybe she has her life figured out. Or at least figured out enough.

Her career is finally moving.  Her finances are stable.

She's independent. She's no longer constantly worrying about how she's going to survive the next month.

She has a home. A real home. Not just four walls and a roof.

A place where she feels safe. A place where she can breathe.

A place where she can leave her shoes by the door, make coffee in the morning, laugh at something stupid, and think: “Yeah. This is mine.”

And maybe… just maybe…

she finds love again. 

Not the kind of love that makes her question herself.

Not the kind that makes her feel unwanted.

Not the kind where she has to beg for attention, affection, reassurance, or basic communication.

I want her to find the kind of love that stays. The kind that doesn't disappear when things get difficult. 

The kind that chooses her. Again. And again. And again.

A love that feels safe.  

A love that feels like home instead of another war zone.

And maybe she's surrounded by her people. 

Besties. Friends. Family. Loved ones. 

The people who stayed. The people who came back.

The people who never made her question whether she mattered.

Maybe her life is loud again. Messy. Chaotic. Full.

The way life is supposed to be. And maybe… one day…

there are tiny feet running around that house.

A little mini-me. Maybe a mini him too. Who knows? 😂

Maybe I'll have a tiny human who inherits my stubbornness and someone else's ability to remain calm.

God help us.

Or maybe I'll have two. Or maybe none. I don't know.

That's the beautiful—and terrifying—thing about the future.

I don't know what's waiting for me. I don't know who I'll meet.

I don't know where I'll live.  I don't know what career I'll have.

I don't know whether I'll fall in love again.

I don't know whether I'll have children. 

I don't know what my home will look like.

I don't even know what I'll have for dinner tomorrow.

And yet, somehow, I've been expecting myself to know exactly what my entire life is supposed to look like.

Maybe that's ridiculous. Maybe I don't need to know.

Maybe I just need to believe that there is a life beyond this moment.

Because right now, sometimes it still feels like I'm inside a black hole. A really dark one.

The kind where you can't see the way out. 

The kind where every direction looks impossible.

The kind where you wonder how the hell you're supposed to climb out when you barely have the energy to stand.

But here's what I know. I'm still here.

I haven't disappeared. I haven't given up.  

I'm still thinking about the future. 

I'm still imagining something better.

And maybe that means there's still a little bit of fight left in me.

Actually… There is.

Because I've survived every terrible day that came before today.

Every single one. Even the days I thought I couldn't.

Even the days when getting through the next hour felt like an achievement.

I survived. So maybe I can survive this too.

Maybe I'll crawl out of this hole slowly. Maybe I'll climb.

Maybe I'll fall a few times. Maybe I'll swear a lot.

Probably. 😂

But I'll keep going. And someday, I hope I can look back at this version of myself and say: “You had no idea what was waiting for you.”

Maybe she'll be stronger. Meaner. Wiser. More powerful.

More alive. 

Maybe she'll have everything she once thought she'd lost.

A career. A home. A family. Friends. Love. Happiness. Peace.

Maybe she'll have a partner who adores her.

Maybe she'll have a tiny human who looks suspiciously like her.

Maybe she'll have a passport full of stamps and a closet full of clothes she absolutely did not need to buy.

Maybe she'll have a life so full that she barely remembers what the black hole felt like.

I don't know. And for once, I don't need to know.

Because the future hasn't happened yet. 

Which means it hasn't disappointed me yet either.

That's something. So yes. I'm going to start looking forward. 

Not because everything is magically okay. It isn't.

Not because I'm suddenly healed. I'm not.

Not because I have everything figured out. I absolutely don't. 

But because I deserve to believe that this isn't the end.

Maybe this is just the ugly middle.

The chapter where everything falls apart before the story finally starts making sense.

And if I get nothing else from this whole mess—

if I lose everything else— there is one thing I refuse to lose.

Myself.

I owe myself a way out. I owe myself another chance.

I owe myself a life that doesn't revolve around surviving.

And I owe myself the possibility of being happy again.

So, future me… 

I don't know where you are yet. I don't know who you're with.

I don't know what your life looks like. But I hope you're laughing.

I hope you're surrounded by people who love you.

I hope your home feels warm. I hope your heart feels safe.

I hope you found a love that stayed. And I hope you're proud of the woman who got you there.

Because right now, I'm still down here in the black hole.

But I'm looking up. And that's enough for today.

I'll keep climbing. I will survive this.

That's the least I owe myself.