Resurrection

To the bright-eyed, bashful child I used to be,

To every version, and every form of me, that has died and was reborn again, a billion, trillion times...

Farewell my darling insecurities, that I thought were fused to my identity… I am grown now. Finally I know now, not to welcome you or believe in you anymore. You're no good for me. I have come to the clarity, that my self-doubts aren’t the glue I once believed held together all of my tiny broken pieces. I no longer need to be a protector of everyone around me from what I felt was the inevitable damage of my jagged little shards. I know now that I have never not been whole.

Why have I spent so many years feeding my self-loathing? Was it nourished by the words of childhood criticisms? Of generational trauma? Undiagnosed mental illness? Did it spring from the superfluous fountains of media and magazines, desperate to tell me and sell me all the things I could never be? Was it grown from the lies and gossip of high school bullies and college frenemies? Or the bereavement of lovers that never really loved me? Was it the glances at myself in the mirror, seeing only a future of failure? All the words read and heard, casted callously, and taken straight to my heart? Even as I write this now, I hear a voice rebuking me, "Give up now! This isn't art".

Maybe the world isn’t ready for me, but here I am. What is the virtue of staying hidden in the shadows? Is it a false sense of humility? Is it the safety of being invisible? Is walking in the light of my truth such a shame, that I am better off living as a mystery? I have learned that society doesn’t politely change for us when we arrive. The world and society are both ugly and beautiful at any given time, throughout history and in the modern day. I’ve learned here on this Earth, that we won’t always feel welcomed. We can only shift and shape things by becoming who we were each made to be, and by letting our ripples ride out into the universe. We bloom when we bloom, and you'll die without living if you stay tightly hidden in a bud forever. It's a good thing though, that some kindred souls will think you’re the most delectable thing that has sprung in the Spring. Then again, some might just see you as a pesty and invasive weed. But that's their problem. Even if you aren’t everyone’s favorite flower, you’re still a flower nonetheless.

All those chastising voices, all those tragic thoughts, telling me I’m unworthy, unwanted, and mediocre at best. I lay down the protectors, guarding me from my own inevitable chaos that I believed would surely bleed out and stain... if I got too cocky… too big-headed… too inflated with self-esteem. I put to rest those menacing internal echoes, telling me to fear the efforts of creating my vision, hopes and dreams. Telling me I won’t fail if I never try. Telling me I won’t disappoint if there is nothing to be disappointed by. Sometimes the nagging voices are just whispers, and sometimes they’re a head full of screams. Perhaps I will never truly silence them, but I’ve realized I don’t have to listen. I can put in the effort to try. I can give my passions energy because I love them, and not need another reason why.

What did you want from me, immaturities and insecurities? Perhaps you were once there to protect the most fragile parts of me. Maybe some things can only be learned from overzealousness, mistakes and naivety. Or maybe you were the cautionary words of those that had been jaded and injured by life, internalized over time into my own depression and strife. I cannot make the sadness disappear permanently, but I can use it to water all this sad shit inside of me, and shine my own sunshine when the rain stops and the clouds disappear. Because that’s how a real garden grows... in love, and not in fear.

There is beauty in what I once believed was just my chaos. My chaos is the cosmos, vast and powerful and unexplainable, but longing to be explored and understood. You can’t bottle up the cosmos. Expansion is inevitable, and I’m not going to fight it anymore. I'm not going to keep living in my head. Even if I disappoint myself, even if I fall and fail again and again, barely making the deadlines, working stream-of-consciousness, entering contests I know I will never win. I did it for me. I made it for me. I continue to live because I have decided that I love living. I love giving something to the world, even if it's nothing much to offer. I give birth for the sake of love, for my baby, and for me. The Maiden is now Mother. Full of life, fully giving, emerging from the chrysalis, blooming with creativity. I died and was reborn again. Tomorrow is my birthday. I will wake up 33.

Much love and sincerely,

Resurrected.

Forever free. <3