It has been more than a week since my last poem. At least that one had been one that mattered. It had been about something I had to remember for the past days to keep going, about a trap in my head.
I have often thought these days that I may have found and recognized a pain that could define me. A pain that influenced a lot of my past decisions and has played a role in many of the stories I wrote.
I think I don‘t want it anymore. I don‘t want my whole life to be a response to this one specific kind of pain, and I have to ask myself if I am even able to do something outside of feeling it.
It‘s like a layer of ice right beneath the skin.
It‘s a slow sunset in late February.
It‘s the feeling when someone leaves although they never should have.
My therapist always wanted me to take care of my inner child, because otherwise I was damned to feel its raging emotions forever. Under his instructions, I ended up listening to this weird and uncomfortable feeling even more. I was thinking about what I had liked to eat 20 years ago, listened to my very first CD, and became very miserable, because I suddenly felt like she deserved better. This younger version of me deserved an adult to take care of her, and not me only having half of my life under control, putting off my final exam and having not reached any of my goals yet.
I began feeling bad for not being a better adult. I felt like I owed it to her, who was hidden somewhere inside of me.
I was not good enough for myself.
I recently rewatched „Friends“, and I noticed that this is theme on the show as well. When Phoebe has the triplets for her brother, he is so excited to become a father, because he never had one and now he will because he is going to be the father! When Monica was just over Richard, you saw her adapting little things from him. Not anymore sulking with cigars and civil war documentaries, but in the famous episode from season 4 in which Monica explains her seven zones to Chandler, she is wearing one of Richards shirts (or at least one that looks alike).
Becoming the father you never had.
Wearing someone’s shirt while giving the advice you’d probably receive in an altered version from him now and then…
The message here is to become the thing that you missed in life to numb the pain.
And as much as I adore the thought, I could never do that.
Just because I was missing something – or someone, or the concept of a person, or whatever – does not mean that I want to become it. In my thoughts, this means to overgrow a scar that has a reason to be.
Just because someone left does not mean that I want to kill of the heart that needed them.
Still, when I listened to what is supposed to be my inner child, I have to admit that I feel closer to it than I did before the pandemic. And I was so sorry. I was so sorry for giving up on both of us. For not finishing our degree in time (now I have btw.), and for giving up on writing and playing music when I was so young.
And when I told my mother about regretting to stop doing the things that I loved from age 20 to 25 because I was too depressed and anxious to do them, she completely denied me that regret, and simply said that I had been nicer and less complicated back then.
Just because I never had a mother, or a parent actually, does not mean I now want to be the super adult that has everything under control.
I guess I just finally want to be confident and focused enough to do what matters to me, without having to forget my vulnerability.
Writing.
Trying to get published with all my strength I have left.
Playing my music.
Pursuing my master‘s degree.
And also, finally keep blogging about all my cool witching stuff again! I have so many interesting posts planned!
All of that without falling into one of the traps in my head again, of course.
Mistress witch writes 