I’ve been sweeping quite a lot of emotions under the rug lately, closing them behind doors, because I couldn’t deal with the uncomfortability of experiencing them.
I couldn’t withstand feeling stagnant. Stuck. Not knowing what to do with these heart-wrenching emotions that came with no guideline. These memories would climb up my spine from the forgotten attics in my heart and breathe pain freshly back into my flesh if the right questions were asked.
But there seems to be 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. To sit in the museum of moments, with the mosaic of emotions trying to piece, and interlink memories to find patterns and triggers.
To rewrite our narrative so that we don’t succumb to the negative narrative that echoes and emanate failure, loss, and rejection. To know that what we endured, made our self-esteem resilient
Under the layers of fabricated scabs, there are lessons hidden in the nooks and crannies of our pain. The ones who let us down paved the vision to spot the red flags sooner, walk away faster. Overworking shed light on our limitations, and the realization that we don’t have to partake or take upon everything that comes our way, though we have the ability to do so.
The ones who bullied us into quietude reignited the fire to vocalize our ideas, boundaries, and values. The mishandling brought forth that we are not for everyone and that people sometimes have their own issues to heal before they can truly appreciate someone else.
There is no doubt that the tribulations are overwhelming to endure and to relive. But I hope we can reignite dying embers, weave a future from the webs we are tangled in. Build from the same sorrow we are drowning in.
I pray that we can learn and move forward. That our comebacks are empowering than our setbacks. That we can reframe the past from a place of gratitude for our present and our future.