In visions of myself, my time of peace comes. No longer out of my reach. Why then, can I not grab hold when my eyes are open? Only emptiness. Only restless chaos filled with fear and longing to be a perfect version of what someone has told me I should be. You see, I am not me. Not fully, not yet. The fear instilled in me is not only fear of the outside world and all it’s madness. But of me. What I am capable of being. What I am capable of doing – when at last I mend.
As a child I began to feel the tearing of my soul. A terrifying, gut wrenching pain. I longed to be loved for who I was – but that was not enough. I wasn’t what the world wanted. I longed to be. To be bold. To be strong. To be accepted. I tore away my emotional self. The one who cried tears over happy things and sad things. The one who cried tears of cleansing and healing – in hopes that this would show strength.
I tore away the part who needed – out loud. I would go about this life alone. When my heart ached – when I was hurt by hands of others. I would not break – but I did – quietly. No one was to know the pain it caused to swallow the words that longed to break to the surface. The words that would set me free. The words that would began the healing. Instead I stuffed them in a little box – un coffre-fort. No one would believe me if I spoke them out loud. I was the daydreamer. The one in darkness – in her room surrounded by words on paper – words that sang out. The weird – crazy one. Don’t utter those words in public though – that would be an embarrassment. I already knew I was one.
Another rip of my soul took my love. Love for me. Some days even the love for others. I began covering – my mouth so no words would come forth and share truth. My body – not only clothes of black – but fat. Yes, today I admit that the weight did not all come from place unknown to me. I didn’t know what worked behind the scenes but I knew I gave up. No eyes would want to see me – no hands would touch – nothing would be expected of me. I was not only the weird, crazy one – but now the fat one.
Ugliness always peered out from the mirrors that hung in my room. I dared not look for too long – I might murder what I saw. After all- it was already killing me – slowly. It became an addiction – the blade – the hot lighter – even the unwillingness to admit my diet consisted of hardly nothing – except the tastes that allowed the sensation of calmness. It has taken over – I allowed it to take over. How did I not know?
A shield of black kept them away. I didn’t realize I had the power -then. Yet I did. The power to hide from ugliness that they spoke through the dagger in their eyes. Appearances are everything – paint on a smile and put nice clothes one. Sit in a sanctuary made by man’s hands and be that “goodness” they expect. I did. But emptiness still filled me. It was religion – not spirituality – not true belief that I was taught to embrace. Judgment and “holier than thou” attitudes filled so many of the pews – the air was so heavy – I couldn’t freely breathe.
I grew with a sense of a need to please. A need to be only where I was told I could be. I didn’t thrive in anything. When I noticed – I could fly – to another level – I grounded myself. “No, you don’t belong up there,” I told myself. I must stay put at the lower level – where I belonged. The trembling, anxiousness came upon me full force every time I was going to speak – to defend myself – to ask for my needs and wants to be met. Every dream of the answer to the, “what do you want to be when you grow up,” question – stayed put in my coffre-fort – never allowed to take root because I didn’t deserve it.
Again, my soul tore. Every time I sat in my car unable to get out – unable to get to a class – unable to go to work. I felt it. I couldn’t stop it. I sat in silence. I claimed physical illness – did it. I couldn’t admit that – my mind – did it. That something out of my control held me captive. Some dark shadow – sadness – had taken root in place of my dreams – my goals of a happy, love-filled life.
It is time – to mend. I no longer can resist the call – the visions of peace. I no longer can allow myself to be held captive – to make an enemy of myself – of those things that are within me. It is time for acceptance.