My life is integrating - present and past - in beautiful truths when I allow each to arrive. I’ve lived in years of shame, guilt, pity and pains of judgements belong to others and more harmful self-judgement. Reprieve came in strange places - the strongest when my partner and I worn out from arguing rested for a moment in the deep truths of who we truly are. I remember the weight and freedom from the weight in those moments. I wanted to stay in the peace, and was terrified of the vulnerability. My partner waits for me to arrive in my self all of the time. She knows I’m in there, and waits. Sometimes with patience and tolerance, sometimes in utter frustration and anger. I come to. I come to me. I come to my truths, slowly. I turn and face my fears, my pains of the past, and look with new eyes. Maybe, just maybe, all that has caused the shame, the guild, the pity and pains of judgement weren’t because of me. Maybe. Just maybe.
Truth floats from the inner self, through the muck of ego, to greet me just where I am. It’s what I do with it that matters. I’m tired of stomping on the truths as I did when my mother presented me with a crocheted dress that she’d made. Stomp. It wasn’t me, and I didn’t want to wear it. Stomp. Truth was in the stitches - the stitches held her dreams of a little girl in a dress. She got me. I wasn’t a little girl that liked dresses. Stomp.
I’m going to allow the truths to rise a bit more today. I will greet them with all that I can muster, and be just a bit more of who I am. I come to me. I’ve been waiting all along for these moments. Right alongside my partner.
2 years ago • Notes