Without hope I have nothing

I have to be so vigilant, to make sure that I don’t mistake the shadow of my past for my present reality, and that I don’t allow my pig-parent to have any authority – the part of me that tells my life is over, things have got too bad for me to ever recover.  I’m too poor, I’m sliding down a slippery slope into a hole I’ll never be able to get out of.

This part of me is still so strong, and it makes my life seem unbearable.  Without hope, what do I have?  None.  I can’t let it be my truth.  I can’t afford to.

I feel vulnerable today.  Sore that it’s taken me all this time to dismantle all the crap I believed was true about me – it all fits into the category of worthless and undeserving, but that category has a million sub-categories, it’s like a disease, invading every fibre of my being, mind, body and spirit, causing every part of me to distort or dis-function.

Usually seeing it so clearly makes me angry. Today I just feel sore.  I ache for the infant, the child, the young girl, the young woman, the woman that I was who was trapped inside the cage of her own ignorance about her deservability.  Like a bird trapped in a cage, flying manically from one side to the other, flinging itself against the bars.  Bruised, injured by its own desperate bid for freedom.

Intellectually – and sometimes in a way that’s deeper, I know that every second of my life has value, but sometimes it’s hard not to see how much of it has just been wasted.  It’s been such a long journey to even get to a place where I could accept responsibility for my own destiny, let alone do all the work needed so I could function properly and healthily, and do something meaningful with my life and the things that come naturally to me.  I’m just sore today.


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