Page 161 of Wasted Grace

Movingaway... from her.

But it’s not just that, is it? It’s the fact that whatever direction I move toward, I don’t know if I’m closing in on her or moving away. It’s a leaden lump in my chest that yearns to know where she is—but the reality of the unknown is easier thanknowing.

Knowing that maybe... I reallyamdrifting away from her.

FORTY-SEVEN

Greesha

There’s a disconnect that happens between you and the version you had idolized for decades.

And it doesn’t happen immediately. It happens when you’ve let go of the notion that youdon’t exist.That youneverexisted in the first place.

That the version you’ve being living as, is nothing but a concept woven by horrible circumstances. But then again—who am I without the actions I took. The life I went through.

I’m a culmination of the decisions Imade. Each decision informed by external factors. It’s not that I didn’t have agency. Idid. But it was more about the fact that I altered my life based on anend goal.

That someday I’ll face the peace. I’ll embrace it. Someday... I’ll rid myself of the pain of having my idolized life ripped from me.

It was a destination. Not alifestyle.

The moment I understood that my current life had been a limbo consisting of procrastinating peace—Ichanged. I forced myself to realize that with or without Advik, I needed to find it for myself.

Not as an end goal—but a moving target. Constantly chasing something that I once thought I would eventually reach. That my sacrifices would manifest a life.

But I had to actually fuckingchooseit. And I hadn’t. Not for years. Because I treated peace as a reward. One more mission. One more surrender.

And it hadn’t worked.

So now—a year after I ejected myself from Advik’s life—I find myself wondering why even the decision to disappear from his life was designed as a pursuit of peace?

Because I know now, that I associated him with a life thatactivelyavoided it.

But four months into therapy, I realized that I was seeking peace after violence. That the year and half with him was temporary. That I imagined myself being cocooned in the calmness, without addressing the gore that still lived in my chest.

That a moment of tranquility in Advik’s arms wouldn’t have rid me of the pain I needed to acknowledge—to gain that stupid, imagined peace. Which is why I failed when we first got together all those years ago.

However, today, I realize something I’ve been avoiding. The level of exposure he had to my life helped me see it—helped me admit that I’d been holding up a blockade. Not just between me and him. But between me andpeace.

Because I couldn’t have that peace if I let the past keep dictating the future. I couldn’t enjoy what was real if I kept bracing for it to fall apart.

I still can’t believe I lucked out with a government-mandated therapist who was willing to actually help me get out of the action, not keep mehookedin it.

Her words echo in my head—the first time she said it.

??????

“I think you ended up controlling a narrative you thought your life was headed toward. You wanted to reach it on yourown terms. You built this whole story of sacrifice and reward. So until you actually earned that reward, you couldn’t let the story end.”

“You mean... I needed my work to result in some—what—justice?” I’d asked, hands trembling.

She shook her head gently.

“I mean you needed control over your outcome. Because after fifteen, the most important thing taken from you... was control. Your parents, the forced relocation to the orphanage, the interference from your extended family, your recruitment to RAW. Even your career in special forces—did you trulychooseany of it?”

I remember shaking my head dumbly. I used to think I was one of those emotionally damaged yet mentally stable women—the kind who stitched their life together with trauma and then pinned medals on themselves for surviving it.

But now? I just think I was a controlling moron trying to survive by keeping everything tightly in my grip.