It’s a gorgeous spring morning. Right now the sky is clear and blue, the kind of crisp blue reserved for blooming cherry blossoms and budding pine leaves. My jaw is still tender from dental surgery, but the wounds themselves seem to be healing nicely. I was able to eat solid food yesterday for the first time, which was beyond delightful. I love Pho, but eating pretty much and nothing else for a week is not what I would call a nice time.

I’m currently working on my last packet of the semester. It’s astonishing how far I’ve come and how close I am to accomplishing this massive and amazing goal. There’s so much I’ve learned over the last two years, both about myself and about other people, that it really is astonishing to me how much I’ve grown, how much I’ve changed, and how much I’ve healed. I know this seems to be a central theme of my posts here, but I think women too often don’t give themselves enough credit for the work we do, for the things we accomplish, and so I’m trying to keep giving myself the space and the freedom to do that.

Last week was a really rough week for a lot of reasons. Not only did I have some pretty major dental surgery, but I also had to confront some realities that I’ve been trying to avoid for a few months. I think I posted about seeing my ex’s new Instagram profile. It’s not an easy thing, to encounter the people who’ve been the most responsible for your trauma, even if that encounter is online. I blocked his profile so that I wouldn’t have to keep seeing it, and I took extra measures to keep my own profile secure. But it still serves as a reminder to me that even on my good days, I still carry trauma. And sometimes seeing even the face of the person/people responsible is enough to send me into an anxious episode.

But I also can’t avoid those faces forever. As much as I want to, as much as I wish I could pretend they don’t exist, it is all too apparent that they do and that sometimes, I’m going to see them. Even when I’m not seeking them out. Even when I’m not expecting them to pop up, there they’ll be. Because that’s simply how the world works. I can do what I can to shield myself, but it’s not ever going to be perfect in keeping those faces/those people entirely away from me. And that’s even more upsetting when you know these people have lied about you and are still lying about you. I highly doubt my ex has ever really taken ownership of the ways he hurt me in our marriage. I doubt he has come to terms with just how much pain he caused. I’m not sure he ever will.

But what I’m trying to unlearn is the idea that what other people say about me has any bearing on me at all. In reality, it doesn’t. People will spin their stories to serve their own self-interest regardless of what we do, what we say, and who we are. It’s who my ex has always been. It’s what abusers always do. And I can choose to let it get to me, or I can choose to live my life as true to myself as possible, letting people believe what they will. I think this is an integral part of healing from trauma. I think so often, we want to set the records straight, make sure people know all the ways we were hurt and injured by those we gave our everything to, and the idea of letting people believe what they want feels like self-sabotage.

But it’s actually an act of self-love, and that’s something I struggle with. Because to an unhealthy degree, I still derive too much of my personal self-worth from what others think about me. It’s a vicious spiral. It’s toxic and self-deprecating. Nothing I do, nothing I say, is going to get a liar to stop spreading lies. It’s just never going to happen. My ex is going to live his life however he sees fit. He’s going to make friends, have romantic relationships, and build the life he wants. Thinking I can change any of that, or even wanting to change any of that, is to direct my energy into something that’s not only fruitless, but damaging to my own mental health.

Learning to love myself unconditionally has been the hardest part of healing from my trauma. I’m not even halfway there. But I’m making progress. Because every day I live with any hatred of myself is a day that the liars win. The best revenge, as they say, is a life well lived. And while I can certainly acknowledge that living that out is much more complicated than just typing it on a blog, I also see how it really is somewhat simple. It’s a day-to-day, and even moment-to-moment choice to live our lives well. To give all we have to ourselves. To learn, to grow, to heal, to move on from the things that no longer bring us peace and joy.

I don’t think loving ourselves is a destination. I think it’s a process, one that we will be working through our whole lives. But I think it’s a worthwhile effort. I cannot allow myself to choose to narratives that others have written for me. I’ve done that for too long and it very nearly killed me more than once. Plus, sometimes the difficulties we go through are the stepping stones we need to get to the people who are meant to be in our circle. I look around at the people I’m closest to right now and I see the faces of those who have always been there, the faces of people who genuinely care, the faces of people I know I can trust, I can count on, I can be myself with. I don’t have to fear having their love withheld. I don’t have to be afraid of their silent treatments, their passive aggression, their manipulation.

The choices we make can either close us off or open us up. The sky is open. The sun is shining over the tops of the trees around our condo. I can hear birds chirping outside my window. And I have a day of work, writing, and cleaning ahead of me. (Being out of commission for a week after dental surgery takes a toll on the cleaning department.) I have a partner who really makes me fall in love every single day: fall in love with him, fall in love with the world, and fall in love with myself. I want to choose love today.