Stop Getting So Distracted

If there was a poster child for “perfect grades but talks too much—turns out you’re a girl in the nineties with undiagnosed ADHD, and now you’re spending your whole life trying to fuel your fire with a creative outlet”—yeah, that’s me.

Here’s the thing: I love a good distraction. I love the way it feels to get lost in a side quest for the day, to spend an entire afternoon accomplishing everything and nothing all at the same time.

You know what I mean? Like when you sit in the sun and heal your soul just by watching the world exist—knowing you’re a part of it, but also realizing you can slip away into your own little hidey hole if you’re not careful.

And right now? I really, really want to go to my hidey hole. It’s so safe and cocoon-like in here. I’m killer at decorating and vibes, so my space is basically a happy little nest where I get to be fully myself.

That’s been the hardest part of living in abuse—you lose yourself. You forget what brings you joy because you’re terrified of upsetting your abuser.

Even typing the word “abuser” feels heavy. I still catch myself thinking I deserved to be strangled. I still have to go back and reread books just to remind myself how insane it was that this man screamed at me for twelve hours a day while I worked my ass off—writing books, learning photography from scratch (y’all, that was a whole thing), taking classes in the middle of the night just so I could figure out what an f-stop was and finally get my camera out of auto.

And how did that girl—the girl who pushed through spit, shoves, screaming, and cheating—end up losing an apartment and all her cars this year?

How did that girl get so distracted by men who can’t hold a candle to what she’s been building?

Why do I even need them? What are they giving me that I can’t give myself? This isn’t about sex. I mean the bigger question: what does being in a relationship offer me right now that I can’t already provide for myself?

The truth is, it doesn’t.

I’ve got a great lawyer with an alliterative name who makes me feel safe and supported. I’m on the right side of this, because I’ve worked my whole life to be good and kind, to build a business I’m proud of, and to create a life that actually reflects me.

And that’s what I’m scared of losing—not him, not the marriage, but me. This was never his life. He was just living mine. I see that now. All I can do is trust that the universe sees it too, and let the chips fall where they’re supposed to.

And honestly? Isn’t that how it always works out anyway?

So I’m done getting distracted. I’m focusing up. Because I deserve the life I’ve built, and I deserve to keep it.

I got this.