riverrun Vol. 47

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from the suffering of someone’s hands gently against her skin, the little girl who
was bullied with the words, “you’re too weird” echoing throughout her soul, the
fragile girl taking Benadryl to force the sleep to rest the crying of the night. The
friends I loved and would do anything for, stripping me of my worth and power,
and taking my kind words to heal their wounds as mine only dug deeper, pouring
out blood. The moments when my power is taken, they bring back every part of
me I worked so hard to rid myself of. Her sentences full of hate remind me of the
pain of years before, and that life is not mine.
Healing. To rid myself of the toxicity in myself was step number one. All the corrupt
thoughts, I had to stop giving way to. Traveling back into the traumas, step
by step discovering the very effects each one has carried into my day to day life,
now, in my present time. From the mean girls in elementary school kicking me
out of the talent show, to the middle school girls, “she’s lying about her mom’s
cancer for attention,” to the abandonment of the high school girls, bullying every
year, every day in the halls of those schools. Feelings of worthlessness, selfhatred,
being unworthy of care and love that I give out to others, loneliness, and
dependency. I had to learn how to find the very love I gave within myself. I had to
fall in love with my smile, the golden specks throughout my eyes as the sun illuminated
them, the softness of my voice, and the laughter that made my stomach
hurt. I had to teach myself how to forgive the scars of my pain and be thankful for
the lessons. To give grace to the emotions stirring inside me. No more shame, no
more brokenness, no more blaming me.
Forgiveness. I sat in my room considering all of the people in my life who had
hurt me. At first, the pain was all I could feel, then my fingers brought themselves
onto my keyboard. The familiar feeling of readiness to let my heart become
words on a blank white screen. It was time to be free. It started with “dear” and
the name followed along with the hurt following and the thanking of each and
every person for how they assisted me to become the woman I was in that moment.
It seems simpler than it was. Tears slid down my cheeks, dragging my
foundation with them until the black mascara followed and caused my eyes to
burn. “Dear mom,” “dear Sean,” “dear Jorel,” until it was the last. “Dear me.”
Dear Mom,
~
I know I haven’t made that sparkle in your eyes blind me when you
look into mine in a while. We have been distant. Secrets were the
barriers between our sunny days where the grass was always green, and
the birds were always singing our song. I was scared to let you down
over and over again, only to tear down the solid connection we had
instead. I didn’t trust you with my secrets. I didn’t feel safe because
I knew the image of the color leaving your face and your heart
falling to the floor was going to break my heart made of glass. I
wanted to be a perfect daughter for you, and I know you truly did not