Bear with Me.

Bear with me,

I carry the effects of my poor excuse for a memory. I may not remember everything but I always feel the pain in my body. It aches behind my eyes and in spots I cannot place. I try to sleep it off but it is with me when I awake. I wonder, what good is remembering the past if you fail to learn from your grief? How do you fight for something when you’ve begun to lose all belief? The mind plays tricks–looking for cracks to disprove what experience taught. Trust is the confident arrow aiming to break your fragile heart. For so long I fought against creating a life of my own. But I am a community, I am a building–A vacant chair in an empty home.

They said I don’t really need you.

What I need is understanding and a patience that most people have forgotten to treasure. What is wrong with doing it my way if my direction keeps us together? Maybe this room is not big enough, and this chair is too small. Maybe we are not meant to be a community after all. I do better when time passes and I have learned to play my part. We deny truth in favor of doing the right thing.

But what good is your pride, valor, or integrity if they all keep you away from me?

We tend to ask questions when we already know what we need.


Callous, Cold Woman.

We separate by force. Distance keeps us at arms bay.
But I know I’ll crave your embrace in these coming days.
I wonder if your peace still lies with me.
Can you even sleep?

Or is your heart at rest knowing the best part is over?
And all that remains is effort given in vain.

Most people give up too quickly.
Doubt consumes courage.
Love grows sour.
And interest steadily declines.

I continue to hope for you.
Pray you’re at your best.
Even if at the end of things,
I don’t express much clearly.

I refused to be consistent because
I never wanted you to depend on me.

I mirrored your habits.
Became someone less…

But I digress.

I just want your heart
to be at rest.


Emphasis on Continually. (200 words)

Several bouts of loneliness later, I endeavored to stop trying. I realized I am stuck in my ways, and fitted with an intense stubbornness that will not acquiesce so easily. Maybe if we met 10 years ago you could have “saved me” from myself–as men so often claim to do when women are being unreasonable. But now–now, I am content to build my castle with the debris from every failed relationship behind me. I do not understand the concept of prince charming. And I have no reservation about taking care of my own responsibilities.

Most importantly, I do not want anything that does not want me.

What is mine however, falls under the wing of my intention. I am part lover, all-fighter and sometimes both roles demand emphasis. Love does not just exist when we are madly locked in a passionate embrace. It does not trifle with temporary.

Love says, “I woke up early to make you breakfast in preparation for your meeting”.
Love commands your attention when you forget why you are fighting.
Love says, “I choose YOU,” over other people, over my doubts, over this ugly mess we created.
Love is continually choosing US over EVERYTHING.

….Emphasis on continually.

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See You There!

–Jen Cosby

You are Missing from Me.

As I draw further away from the negative reality of my past year–and come closer to the anniversary of our ending–I am hard pressed to examine and emote and release this anxiety that has already served its purpose for me. I suppose I just gave up when faced with the truth of my deception. I did not fight because I had nothing left to lose. Thought I was strong enough and wise enough to push past the initial defeats, but I will never forget you are missing from me.

I still try at times to make peace in my subconscious. My dreams are filled with road blocks and alternate routes that always lead back to you. Except, I spend most of my time jolted awake by the fact that I cannot change what God has told me is not now possible.

The hope is to give up the hurt you experience, and to focus your efforts on healing.

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Bloom with Intention

We all plant seeds that will one day take root and bear fruit. Whether it is good or bad fruit is determined by what we choose to leave. –Jen Cosby

Usually this would not matter to me. What mattered then is how my hurt manifested itself as a quietly ticking time bomb that without warning exploded on everyone I loved. Shrapnel broke down decades old foundations and opened up carefully concealed scars. This makes me human but also magnifies just how weak I really was. And just how weak I continue to be, when I try to forget you are missing from me.

Today, I walk through doors that I did not have to blow up in order to walk through. They open because they are mine and I did not have to convince myself that I was worthy. They open because I accepted my undeniable part in the mess I experienced and gave up praying God would bless the dysfunction.

I realize my pursuit of wellness may not mean restoration. My desire to be better may never be seen. But I promised myself that I would be honest when I am hurting. And the truth of the matter is you are missing from me.


P.S. As life continues to evolve I am realizing that I am posting less frequently on this site. My goal is to only provide “good” thought provoking content at all times. With my current schedule in mind, I will begin to follow a bi-monthly posting schedule.

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I look forward to connecting with you guys on these platforms!

-Jen Cosby

Wait of the World.

It could be worse.

Every lie fed to starving insecurities could actually turn out to be the truth. Every hope drained after selfish decisions were made could make the most faithful believer doubtful.

Some of the people closest to me failed to acknowledge the holes they left in my heart. My self, included. Damage, is nothing if not habitual and I fight daily to eliminate my scars. I do not want to be seen as the person who cannot move forward. So, I try to cut ties with feelings I know deep down are not factual. After a certain amount of time, all self-perceived outside wounds are actually inflicted by you.

When you forgive someone, do you hold them to the same standards before they fell? Do you adjust your expectations to guard against future disappointment? Do you continue to share experiences together, pretending everything is the same as it once was?

The answer is a resounding and emphatic “No”.

Now, I do not trust most of my decisions and cannot understand why I continue in this hurtful cycle. I cannot reconnect to the core of my innocence because the feeling of safety is gone. I still hurt in ways I choose not to explore because sitting with uncertain pain leaves me weary–and unable to see the road in front of me.

quotes, strength, weight of the world, lifeI know I need vision. So much so, I am willing to invest the time it will take to get it back. I used to spend intentional time ignoring the frustration that comes with waiting for a future I should not expect. I try not to run away from it now, but hope is a disposition that will only spring up out of my desperation.

Sometimes, we tend to forget.

I carry an immortal soul within this temporary body that I neglect. I thought I would keep it to myself, but this process of sanctification will not let go of me. Even in the wake of my failures, I know better than to let myself be swallowed. I have been sifted and separated. I feel restless and empty. The truth is I am closer to redemption than I ever cared to believe.

But I still dangle at the end of this string, until the One who sees all comes to rescue me.


Fight or Flight Syndrome.

When someone loves you completely, you can feel the full force of their desire. A knowable certainty sparks your soul with a recognition of undeniable truth. It feels like walking into a room and instantly seeing your person in the midst of a crowd.

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A magnetic force impossible to divide.

The opposite is true if you doubt someone’s love for you. Instead of freedom, doubt will taint your movements. You will walk with tightness around your rib cage and pain in places you cannot soothe. Feeling like you can not remember what life was like without the ache.

Women wear love on their face. Watch as blood rushes to crimson red cheeks and eyes that smile without even trying. Compared to men who strut like proud peacocks. Their chests filled up to the brim with the natural high of being in love.

It is a terrible tragedy when lovers forget how much they once meant to each other. They lay–back to back in bed at night, praying for the busyness of the next day instead of being present with the one they love. The sense of an abrupt ending choking their waking thoughts.

Panicking  in pursuit of the quickest exit route.

My greatest fear was not that I would never fall in love, but that the one I loved would fall out. And it is funny how fear will manifest and color every decision when it is allowed to roam unchecked. I said I wanted love, but I kept love at an arm’s distance. I refused to give love access to the dark spaces poking holes in my heart. Careful to protect the lies I was taught to feed to my mind.

Love for me, was abandonment.

The parent who loved their addictions more than me. Or the friend who was more accurately an enemy. In love, I was a fighter without the necessary training. Every time I found myself in its cage, I lost the match within minutes of the bell ringing.

I believe every lover has a chance to recover once you remember that you are part of the same team. Most matches are lost because the group effort is at an odds. One person is stuck doing all the work while the other refuses to be their relief. Some people defer to the “finishing move” instead of fighting for the ones they love.

I know you lost love once.

That you fought unprepared with a teammate who could not care less. I know you blamed yourself for their ambivalence. That you thought being smarter, thinner or quieter would win their affection. But you were wrong. You are worth more than a love who stands on the sidelines while you defend what you believe. You deserve love that will meet you farther than halfway. You deserve a person who will stand with you on equal footing.

After all love is two fighters, with both feet in the ring.

Therapy for Winter’s Ache.

Recently I realized just how much time and effort it takes to disconnect from memories that remind you of people who are gone. All the pictures, videos, birthday cards, clothes, and on and on. They seem to unforgivably remind you of what you lost. Every room in my home that tells a story of my life–is now wrought with gaping holes and empty spaces due to the absence of things I threw away. Things that were never truly mine. When I decided to become a minimalist, I knew that keeping all this memorabilia would continuously haunt and poke at my heart strings. But I could not prepare for the emotional repercussions on the day I finally got rid of everything.

It was all extremely difficult.

I tried to tell myself not to read the little love notes, or listen to the messages detailing how much we were in mutual love. Instead, I find myself trying to make up excuses as to why I should hold onto the items that have long since become integral parts of my everyday life. Like the coffee table in my living room or the blender I can never bear to use because the last time I used it, I was still with you. Somehow, I developed into this pathetic creature who cannot find the path to move on. No matter how much I ignore how I feel or purposely choose to walk in another direction–I always wind up back in the same emotional drain.

I remember how I fought. How I cared so damn much and how you did not (maybe could not) care enough. Even now, I find reasons to absolve you of the blame. Torturing my heart with the broken promises that left me stranded in the midst of my own personal crisis. Trying to make light of all this collateral damage. And at the same time refusing to admit to it.

In so many ways, I have been successful. There is a level of growth that could never happen without making it through such an impossible course. Every time I think I will not recover, I eventually discover a new way to survive. They say travel light–so I throw my baggage out the window and keep my foot on the gas pedal. My courage manifests as speed, tempting me to get out the way before anything can touch me.

For awhile this has worked in my best interests. But now, (at times I cannot predict)–I am filled with an overwhelming ache. Nothing can fully numb this pain or take my mind away from it for long. I wonder silently to no one if this pain is even reciprocated. Still, I know better than to look back in that direction or to ask questions to which I already know the answer.

Instead, I take solace in the minute victories.
While purging the rest of the items that do not belong to me.

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