A Part of Me

I spoke to a part of myself today who still believes 
I'm not enough. 

Who still thinks she is a 

victim, 

something to be used 
and thrown away. 

Something to be manipulated 

and torn. 

Something undeserving, 

broken, 

misshapen, 

and ugly. 

Something shamed, 

something unworthy, 

something unloved. 

This part of me feels 

(eternally) sad, 

(infinitely) un-giving, 

sour, 

stale, 

un-driven, 

purposeless, and unremarkable. 

She sees this reflection in countless spaces and faces all over this resentful world. 

She does not understand trust. 

She only knows fear. 

Anxiety. Guilt. Release. Possession. Manipulation. 
These are her tools. 

I sat with her today.

Instead of trying to change her or convince her of anything. 

I didn't even try to love her. 
I do love her, though, I just didn't want her to disappear once I offered over the love. 
So I just sat with her. 

And saw her and let her 

be. 

And as the tears welled up in my eyes 

my whole heart ached for all the experiences, 

all the things that happened 

or didn't happen 

to support her believing 

these stories of disgust 
and disappointment 
and despair.  

I saw illusion 
and I saw truth.

I saw light 
and I saw darkness. 

I saw beast 
and I saw beauty. 

I saw joy 
and I saw grief.

I saw nothing 
and I saw everything. 

And it was ALL 

me.

There is no moral  

or mantra 

or big realization 

here to share. 

And I don't mean that in a cynical way, 

or maybe I do, just a bit 

but nonetheless 

there is just 

me. 
More of me. 

More of my Self. 

More expansiveness 

because of my willingness 
to see and be 

who 
I 
am. 

Amen.