My childhood made me feel lonely, like I had to survive. How do I heal that little kid? I try to take every step faced with love. Every cellular movement in the spirit of connection and support brings that silly little girl back into the picture. Mostly, she is stoic and resigned to what the future will bring because it surely must be better than this moment. Therein lies the seed of my optimistic heart.
How many lovely movements have I pulled back from out of fear? Perhaps I need to mother myself back to health. Heal myself. Lay to rest the fear and anger and move forward with a hopeful exuberance that anything is possible. It is a tall order in this very moment.
It’s easier to believe I am not enough and need to improve or grow or shift. I have always been the youngest sitting around a table being treated mostly too immature to understand. I constantly feel the need to assert how truly capable I am. I work my ass off to be as good as I can, to get the most done, to prove I am worthy. I am worthy now, in this fine moment with the day ahead of me and how I show up.
I have lost myself over and over. I have made peace with many moments in the past. I look lovingly from the lessons of other moments I cannot truly heal. Now I understand all the moments over the past three years, trying to help my mother and perhaps make up for all the younger years when I so coldly ignored her out of anger. That is part of who I am, except that is not all of who I am.
That little person lives in me, so hopeful and full of energy, so lonely and confused. I take care of her now. I give her love and snacks. I will walk her home from here in the spirit of love and curiosity, with joy for not being alone.