Over the last two years, I’ve written a lot of content for this blog, and as I was rereading through it, I realized that I needed to organize it.
You’ll be able to find all my old content under the new pages I’ve created. All new content will appear first as a blog post, and then, at the end of each month, I will file all categorical content in its correct place.
The only exception to that is my writing. While I will post anything I write that I have written recently (i.e. in the current year) ,all the content I have written in the past will be automatically added to the relevant page.
With that out of the way, here is my most recent poem:
They taught me trust was foolish
and, in my ignorance, I believed
them, and I pushed everyone—
I even pushed myself out
of my own mind—conveniently
forgot that I was more than
just the flesh I wore.
I turned my mind into a refuge
because I only felt safe there.
Safe from the judgment and criticism
heaped upon me by the people who
were supposed to love me most.
I learned to see myself as less than.
Less than perfect, less than human.
Less than ever good enough.
I. Became. Worthless.
Even when the people around me
raved to me about my strength,
nowhere inside of me could I
believe they spoke the truth.
Their perception of my strength
warred against my vision of the
weakness serving to define me—
if only in my mind.
And, every day, I fought the desire
to give up, to let myself stop
caring, to let myself succumb
to the numbness I struggled
so hard to keep at bay.
Couldn’t they see the weakness
raging inside of me,
competing for the right to
be the victor of my insanity,
as I struggled to take a breath
that wasn’t filled with pain?
They couldn’t see.
Because they saw what I couldn’t.
They saw the truth of my strength and
the facade of my fears of being me.
And slowly–oh, so slowly–
I started to crawl out of
the cave inside myself where
I’d hid every part of myself
except my flaws and imperfections.
I began to see myself as more than the
nothing I’d created in my mind, and I
somehow managed to accept that
I had always been good enough.
That I had crafted delusions of ineptness
and forced myself to live by them.
And, for the first time, I didn’t feel ashamed.
Because I knew those delusions had
served to keep me safe from the
monsters who masqueraded as
my parents, who always failed
to love me the way a child deserves
to be loved.
They pushed me into believing that
I would never be good enough for
anyone to love because they
never loved me.
Or, if they did,
they loved me in a way
impossible to comprehend.
Screamed worthless and stupid
at me like endearments of affection,
so that I grew up feeling like a burden.
But the people who weren’t my family
coaxed me out into the open,
saw the truth of me in such a way
they made me see it, too.
They made me see the strength in
the way I refuse to let the past
define me, and the way I have
released the need to judge myself
for the things I could not control.
And I have learned to be good enough.
Now, even when I make mistakes, I can
let them go without calling myself worthless.
Because, for the first time in my life,
I. Am. Whole.