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on the moment you are put back together

It’s funny – maybe not ha ha funny but certainly peculiar. We remember the exact moment we are broken but not the moment we are put back together. For me, my broken moment came to me on my 30th birthday. I was passed out in the middle of Puerto Galera, alcohol and bad decisions coursing fiercely through my veins. There is a picture of me that somehow ended up on my Instagram. I am on the sand clutching a liter of mineral water and you can see a little bit of my underwear peaking from my shorts. I was in a thankless job, freshly single with bullet holes where my heart used to be. I was surrounded by strangers who just moments before were singing an off-key Happy Birthday in a tiny beachside bar. I was nowhere I imagined I would be. I didn’t know how to get up. I had hit rock bottom.

In an effort to put my life back together, I vowed to take better care of myself. I wrapped bandages around my heart, built walls as I waited for it to be calloused and numb. I filled my days with attempts …

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