Still Apologizing

The awakening to a suffocating void of absolute darkness

hands are clenched

body is curled tight

Unsettled

Where am I? Who am I?

***

I rise slowly, feet reach for the ground, expecting the familiar embrace of a soft, newly laid carpet—warm, comforting, safe

But instead a sharp pain of reality greets me.

Shattered fragments of the past that I cannot bear to sweep up.

***

I force myself forward with stumbling effort.

The shards beneath me crack and shift.

I whimper at the sound of it. “Shush!!”

I am sorry.

***

The tranquility is so deafening it's painful to my ears.

The peace, the absence of mistreatment so heavy its smothering.

I can’t breathe in this newly won freedom.

***

I tiptoe into the kitchen,

carefully setting my cup on the counter,

The porcelain barely makes a sound.

The silence is too fragile to break with the hiss of boiling water.

I hesitate, then step back.

No coffee today.

***

I open the cupboard, my eyes landing on my favorite cereal.

It’s still there, untouched, waiting.

I remind myself that there’s no one to reach for it before me.

***

I am on eggshells.

In my own presence.

Cutting into the bottom of my feet

Leaving me to stumble through trips, slips and falls of trauma I can’t explain.

Still hiding in the weight of self-loathing

and still apologizing

***

For what? I wonder.

I dive into the depths, my mind grasping to understand.

It is a battlefield. I am at war. With my past and with myself.

I shall not speak up!

Because on what grounds, may I stand my ground?

What am I allowed to do… to be?

***

I am yet expecting emotional torment, guilt tripping, gaslighting.

Me being the cause for other people's outrage.

I am sorry.

I am ready for it. My body and my mind are ready for it.

***

Any minute now…

***

I have been told this reality I resigned myself to,

this…pattern I quietly accepted,

is not the norm.

I am stunned by this accusation to my situation!

I refuse to believe it.

No, no, no—I don’t belong in that category!

Don’t you dare label me a victim!

Because, after all, others have it so much worse!

I must be the one who’s broken.

I should be locked away because I am the crazy one.

Shame on me!

***

As I sit on the sofa, my unused cup and bowl untouched beside me

I am trying to settle my feet to this unfamiliar ground of safety

Seeking my heart to adapt to kindness

My mind trying to acclimate to the light feeling of stillness and relaxation

***

The absence of degradation and intimidation scares me,

and feels undeserved.

My soles are sore,

dragging a blood trail into the present,

ruining this experience,

infecting my thinking.

A parasite that took over my mind and body,

triggering responses you might call “quirks”.

A virus that is feeding on my refusal to believe that I am free now.

That I built my empire,

My kingdom on empty grounds,

On burnt soil.

On eggshells.