Recovery Time

"The length of your recovery is determined by the extent of your injuries. And it’s not always successful. No matter how hard we work at it, some wounds might never fully heal. You might have to adjust to a whole new way of living. Things may have changed too radically to ever go back to what they were. It might not even recognize yourself. It’s like you haven’t recovered anything at all. You’re a whole new person with a whole new life.”

 As you might have noticed, I have turned off the comments for a while. I had to wipe clean a lot of hateful ones so I ended up just turning them off. I've left emails open though and many people have asked me questions about my relationships- so many questions about my relationships, hence the many posts about said relationships. One girl asked me why my grieving period was so long for Dean, but less than 2 hours for Karev (formally known as Jess). And that's because they were different 'injuries'. I had different things surrounding them. Dean was a shock and a blow- like a gunshot you didn't see coming. It struck me right in the heart and shocked me to my core. I wasn't heart broken by him, I was never in love with him- I seem like I have suffered phenomenally for that 'love' but really I haven't, it's been mild and it wasn't even love. But I feel negative feelings more, that's why they seem so much worse than they really are. Back to that gunshot wound though- it was unseen, drastic, and I never saw it coming. It was a shot to the heart, no exit wound. So yes, I did literally collapse to the floor some days during that recovery. I screamed in my shower and cried. I isolated myself. I blamed myself. I destroyed myself. It took me about 3 months to get over him, just days longer than we were actually together.
 With Karev it took minutes- kind of. Minutes after shutting the door on Karev I sent my mom a text that it was over and she said she was so proud of me. I went to Kentucky a hour later and met up with a few friends then got a late lunch. I hung out with one of them till sunset before he, and my friend from lunch, went over to Karev's. I then met up with Ana and sat at the park watching the sunset over the city. This photographer asked if he could take candid photos of us and we said yes. We talked about life, I laughed and smiled more than I had in weeks, then went home and slept fine. Karen wasn't a gunshot, he wasn't a bullet wound. He was a cut, a bunch of cuts- and bruises. He was a scrapped up knee and a bloody nose, a cut lip and a bruised cheekbone. He wasn't a bullet wound.
 I cried later, I cried about a month later. I stayed inside a few days when I was feeling blue and cried in my shower as the acoustic version of Mercy played. But my wounds healed quickly and didn't hurt that much. Sure if you poked at the bruises and picked at the scabs then I felt it, the hurt. So for Karev, the bruises have faded and the cuts have scabbed over- and then they healed. Karen was a scrapped knee, a bloody nose, a cut lip, and a bruised cheekbone.  
I have done what I needed to do to heal myself. I fixed myself- stitching myself up and applying bandages where needed. I have figured out how to heal on my own and to adapt to be new, or better. 

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