The times I waited – restless and raging deliberately put on hold dismissed, degraded, ignored.
Why did I put up with that? Was I so afraid I’d lose it all? So uncertain about a future?
How the children came to me need in their eyes, little arms begging to be embraced, and I too blinded to reach out fixated on the anger, powerless, immersed myself in distractions could not respond to their pleading while my own inner child was doing the same
How I’d let other people’s agendas override mine – their need to be rescued or fixed, or to ride on my successes – boundaries never a strong suit my own desires so far buried as to be practically nonexistent
How I’d avoid confrontation never the top dog – hiding rather than facing the bullies in my sight – my loyalty, my friendship a given seldom valued by even me
How I took on the discards of others let men dictate my life – sorting through their carelessness like spoon feeding adolescents Perpetually in mother mode.
I am standing on a threshold no doubt others will not like Where I matter now and love takes precedence and my inner child shines, and my priorities are front facing and loyalty an earned gift Where men are called to account and women upheld and valued.
I am proud of who I am, forgive all the ways I’ve put me down and chose to radiate Love guiding this new light.
I know a little girl, whose hair in ringlets falls, unkempt from lack of brushing; who stands when she should be sitting; who laughs with defiance when challenged, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief; who holds her chin up high and stamps her feet, arms folded in protest when she does not get her way.
I see that little girl, have watched her play, with a wild imagination, and a fearless temperament; have watched her climb a tree, scrap with any bully, and dare to venture on her own; have witnessed her alone times, hidden and obscured, watched as she cried unheeded, buried herself in books, drawing, and future dreams.
I feel that little girl, who wears such a brave exterior to mask her inner fears; who bears a burden of responsibility to carry the weight of those around her; who believes she has the power to make her mother cry, to cause her father’s violence, to save her sisters from pain; who feels the punishment of her situation and ascribes it to unworthiness.
I love that little girl, whose mind is always churning, who prays to a god she’s never seen, and makes wishes on rainbows; who longs to make a difference, and refuses to believe that suffering is all there is; who devotes herself to being a better person, and hopes one day that she’ll finally feel at peace in the world.
I hold that little girl, warm within my heart, listen to her fears, hear her heart’s longing; praise her courageous efforts, appease her doubts, offer condolences for losses, encouragement for change, forgive her of her burdens; allay her misperceptions, reassure her worth, promise to never let her go: she is me.
A woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretence and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself.” – Maya Angelo
I fear living.
No, that’s not it.
I love living… …but I fear engagement… …drowning in engagement
Except, I love engagement… … but only when I dip my toe in the waters and feel the thrill… and can still maintain control.
I fear losing control. I fear no longer being able to call the shots, life demanding more of me than I’m willing (or able) to give.
I’m willing to give… … to a certain point… …can no longer afford to be sapped dry, wrung out and discarded… so much hurt so much betrayal… such lack of appreciation
I have given. I have loved and sacrificed and cherished and given… …up… …self
It’s self I’m afraid of losing and why not? I am only just able to touch her
She and I, still hesitant building a certainty a mutual admiration respect…
And should I be called upon to give…too much…well…
One Woman's Quest 