Tag: weighted
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I want my life to be my own.
I fear that I am my greatest antithesis. Others can, and have, caused issues, but as I get closer to peace, I always find myself as the final obstacle. Peace is not a thing I’m great at. Facing one’s trauma is one thing, but unlearning the negative parts of yourself…
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I am not simply a weighted, darkened soul. I am more.
Pain is a curious thing. I would not say I am past it, but I know I am much farther than I was when I started. Clarity like this will make you realize that you weren’t living before. That only now you are really living. I hate that a bit.…
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The weight that you cared more.
It was nearing spring break of my sophomore year. Since the call in November, I had been home every Saturday, and wallowed every Sunday. I skipped so many plans. I felt myself distancing from my roommates, my friends, and everyone. I wasn’t there; I couldn’t blame them. They always asked.…
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If I want free, I must forgive
It is hard to need someone who is gone. Need someone who was never there. Either by reason of their own or a power greater, couldn’t be there as you needed them to be. Being angry, releasing the guilt, and freeing myself from my mother includes reconizing how much I…
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never looking at him again
It began with conversations at school. I had a few friends, and I began to speak blasé about certain truths. We were all burdened. And though likely unhealthy, we were all desperate for understanding. Trauma, and weighted stories were shared, like reflections on the weather. I spoke of my mother.…
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Live a life I’d be proud of.
I found my mother’s cards. The ones she sent to me when I left for college. When I thought I had left for good. They’ve all begun to fade. All of them, but one, were repurposed from cards she saved over the years. Some old birthday cards, graduation cards, and…
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I will build myself again, if it means freedom
Gratefulness is a strong word. I am not grateful for what has happened to me. I am glad for my resilience, but I reject the notion that the pressure made me, me. I didn’t need the harm. I didn’t need to be victimized. I didn’t need to be raised a…
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Rage or Intrigue (4/?)
As I scanned my closet, for what to wear, I reflected on my appreciation to no longer be working in uniform. At how my closet has expanded in the couple of years since I came back. Brighter now than it has ever been. I first picked the pants, sliding each…
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My final day of freedom, until death.
It had been two years. I’m uncertain that they noticed I was gone. Barely occupying the space in all those years, a whisper. I’m sure my mom did but it was always fleeting. My father and I never spoke even under the same roof, so why would he? I’m sure…
