Throwback Thursday #19

During the lowest part of my life, I was betrayed by someone I completely trusted and thought would never hurt me. I tried to move past it, but the truth is, I never have. I tried to forgive and forget. Forgiveness came, but forgetting did not. As I learned to love myself, I started seeing other things I had overlooked. Sometimes it seems like I have wandered so far away from myself, but through learning to love myself again, I have found those parts of me that I missed. I am finally proud of the woman looking back at me in the mirror. I might get disappointed or angry with her sometimes, but I will never lose sight of her again.

My ability to pick myself up after being so broken for so long is one of the traits I most admire about myself. I wrote this poem a year ago when I started feeling so unimportant. I have put myself last for so long that I did not realize how deep in the sadness I was until it felt like I was drowning in quicksand, very slowly and unable to pull myself out.

As I have mentioned before, writing is extremely cathartic, and I have learned that when I share my truths, I always receive kind messages from others, letting me know I made them feel like they are not alone. That is always my hope as a writer. If sharing my pain can help someone else, well, there is my silver lining!

I hope this one speaks to you.

Love & life lessons,

Kristian

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Dull Edges

You’re asking me what I want for dinner
and I’m telling you how I never feel like I’m good enough

You’re handing me a paper from the doctor
and I’m handing you the poems I wrote when I was twenty-one and believed I was unworthy of love

You’re asking me to pass the hot sauce
and I’m almost laughing at the white knuckle grip I have on the bottle, so it doesn’t drop from my clumsy hands, and you notice yet, another flaw

You’re trying to do the mundane things, and I’m pouring out dull edges of truth that cut like thorns in my side

I can’t keep pretending like everything’s okay

The things I’ve done are mostly sad
The movies that play behind closed eyes often sting
This life has made its home in my bones
and I can hear the floors creak every time I rise

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