The Dawn
The harsh truth is that I cannot let myself down again.
I spent years and years letting myself down over and over again. Living a life that was never meant to be mine. Carrying baggage and pain that were never mine to hold.
I spent years and years trying to find my way to my dreams through a different, more strategic path. Because I saw no path in front of me that would let me go straight toward them.
And yes, there were times when that was 100% true. I had to use the system. I had to trick it. Manipulate it.
But what the fuck am I still doing?
And why?
Why am I still lying to myself, telling myself that I have to stay on this path?
Because this time, I am lying to no one but myself.
Me? Not having the power to change the path?
If I don’t have it, then who does?
I was the one telling myself the whole time that I didn’t have the power to change.
Since becoming an adult, I have always had that power.
But to face that, I need to change the narrative of my life.
I have to see who the fuck I have always been.
That I was trapped inside my own head all my life by fears that were never meant to be mine.
This time, I have to look at myself from a very different perspective:
through the lens of others.
Because I have been telling myself a story about who I am that is simply not true.
It has never been true.
Because who did I think I was?
A failure.
Someone powerless who could not be loved.
Someone who was not hardworking enough.
Someone who was weak.
Even the stories I told myself about my miscarriage and giving birth were about me being weak and a fucking failure. Someone who wasn’t enough even for this.
But…
Others admired and cherished me.
They said they didn’t understand how the fuck I was still able to keep going. To believe. To dream.
And I never understood why because of the fog of self-hatred.
But now it is time to give my past self what she deserves:
the dignity of acknowledging the strength she always carried.
Because I went through shit that could have broken me completely.
But even in the darkest moments of survival mode, I never went fully on autopilot.
I always tried to take the wheel back.
I never stopped dreaming.
I never stopped trying to get better.
Even in the fuckin’ hardest moments, when I had a knife against my wrist, there was still this flickering hope in front of my eyes that things could get better. That this fucking life couldn’t always be about suffering and pain.
That if I worked hard enough, there was something on the other side of desperation, grief, and sadness worth fighting for.
A life that is not about survival, but about finally living my life to the fullest.
A life where I can finally be myself.
The weirdo. The sunshine. The unhinged one with her interesting sense of humor. The strange artist. The smartass. The researcher. The crazy one.
The one who makes miracles happen.
It is always darkest before the dawn.
And finally, maybe, I can see the sun rising on the horizon.
Now that I have finally given my past self the credit she deserves.
The admiration for the strength she always deserved to have acknowledged.