It’s Time to Stop Running
On realizing that the ghosts I have been running from no longer haunt me
I’ve been reflecting quite a bit on my past. Of the many painful twists and sometimes comical turns that have led me to where I am now. I see this particular theme staring back at me. That of me trying to contain, diminish, or in some way erase myself into being less “me” than I actually am. A life-long pursuit, I realize I’ve spend so much of my energy trying to “un-me” myself.
Consumed with clawing out of my original identity from a young age, I sought to extricate myself from what seeped out of my maternal heritage. I saw the tragic legacy of shame and all the narcissism and projection that came from that. I took in the dissonance that there were always energetic fingers pointing out but never much reflection or self-awareness absorbed back. I digested the oppressive self-imposed helplessness and subsequent drama. I inhabited the space of neglect.
All of this terrified me. I was not like her. I was nothing like them. I would not be like this. Though I couldn’t articulate it then, I sensed that no one could hold me here. There wasn’t room for me because everything had already been allocated to the holding of their own pain. I understood that I had been rejected by the pack. And so I ran.
