And slowly she came forward, this real being, being me. It doesn’t pay to be otherwise, but this is the life lead, being what you want- not me.
Decades of pleasing, being underground, steamrolled, lying dormant while being squashed. Allowing it, inviting it with self-apologetic ways.
But then? It came up, a flash of anger, that spark that fumed in silence like a bomb smoldering but never erupting, the friendship over.
Too many ended this way, adding to the failures of just living, feeling since age 8 that I had no right to be here. Yet deep down my real feelings mother didn’t want or allow, nor anyone else in that group called ‘family.’
To live inauthentically is not life, nor coming with the drive or passion to live. Daily thoughts of death came to visit instead.
Late in life, after mother died, the one who silenced me, truth. And with truth my being began to come alive, and moments of magic came with it. Authenticity. Wholeness. Worthiness. Love.