it is late at night when the thought slipped in.  my fears, like little tigers.

i am afraid sometimes.  that strong girl, afraid.  and i hate that sensation.

every part of my being is at ease with you.  so much so that i find myself wondering about your eyes and dream they are filled with hope.

will you miss me when i’m gone.

i’m just an orphan floating in the sea.
my record is all over the place.

i’ve been wounded.  i’ve healed.  and been wounded again.  i’ve traveled and come to where i thought was home yet i know i’m still needing sanctuary with someone i can trust my whole heart with.

this year i learned to garden but kept looking over my shoulder.  it was just me in the yard.  wanting to high five someone after i dug the path, take the tomatoes into the kitchen that i’ve grown and reach the things on the top shelf. pull me close when i wake up in a cold sweat, sure that they are trying to get back in.

many of us women belong to a club we don’t ever want to admit we are members of. and the last thing you want to admit is that you were victimized.  you find that over the years you became tougher, and walked the line alone.  never admit you couldn’t protect yourself.  and when she defended the witness instead of looking after you?  it was the ultimate betrayal.

so you go out there.  you seek it but you dare not ask for it.  to ask for it, you are selfish. that’s what they told you.  selfish.  mean girl.  cutting people off.

i admit it.  i cut her off.  after twenty-five years of no apologies, babysitting the one i was supposed to look up to, and being told to F*** off in ten different ways after inquiring if the wagon had been fallen off of.  after twenty five years, i couldn’t say it out loud.  i just had to leave.

maybe i’m right, maybe i’m wrong. but when you are ten years old and he comes into your room? and when he tells her about it afterwards…yet she does nothing?  you can’t disseminate memories anymore going back that far.  you hate going back.  you hate recounting the past. you try to do it as a form of therapy but you know eventually you’ll have to go There.

i don’t want to go there.  i don’t want to be asked to go there.  i’m not broken.  i’m learning to trust again.  i’m doing okay.  i’m open.

but once in a while, i am afraid.  i doubt myself and so i have learned to reach out and ask for that comfort.  it works.  so i am trying it again.  i am reaching out.  instead of jumping over a mudpuddle i am swan diving over a cliff.

catch me.


One thought on “fear

  1. you ARE strong. they WERE wrong. you Are doing what is right. what else is there but to ask for love and understanding and acceptance? how bout a dash of cherish? and in that lies a whole wad of forgiveness for all who deserve as much.



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