Lately I’ve been questioning you.
I’ve shaken my fist at you.
I’ve yelled into the darkness.
I’ve raged at the audacity of giving me too much, all at once, pinching me off from my gifts.
I’ve shamed myself for not picking myself up faster.
Heal! Heal! Heal!
People need you.
Get yourself back on your feet.
Heal yourself, NOW!
But wait, there’s more???
Not just me, also healing familial lines and ancestral lines and cultural wounds.
How much more is there to heal?
Isn’t it over yet?
You broke me.
I don’t laugh anymore.
I see myself curled up under a blanket, wary of men, wary of mothers, wary of my peers, wary of employers, wary of myself.
I feel defeated.
I step back, observe.
I step into nature, talk to my Parts, talk to my Shadow.
I step into Spirit, into the unseen realms.
I step back into myself.
I know you’re not happening TO me.
You’re happening FOR me.
You’re happening for others.
I have tales to tell.
I hear myself telling them.
I hear myself laughing again, dancing again, singing again.
You can not break me.
Through tears, and fear, and loneliness, and doubt, I rise.
You can not, will not, break me.
I’ve been doing this for lifetimes.
I will not be broken.