⁠ ⎜meet me in the middle// bring it back to the beginning // Origin stories, autonomy, divine union birthed by balance // Take me back before it all went... ⁠ ⁠

⎟⁠There are moments- in this moment- where an anger- deep and hot and dark, churns in the depths of me. Being taken from, used, betrayed. Manipulations and control tactics implemented in attempts to stifle my flame, my potent life force; out of fear. And I'm angry. And grieving- all the fractures and fragments of my Soul that ran and hid, in order for me to survive; how I performed these amputations of self, in the name of survival. Can I forgive? Will I forgive?⁠ ⁠

⎟⁠This anger- I feel it in my thighs, my hips and back- calling to me, stuck in a simmering ache. Also present: a grief. Attachment born from lifetimes of repression. Memories of loss come flooding in. What the fuck is all of this? Where is it coming from? [grasping for the rational- good luck with that]⁠ ⁠ I am safe. I am safe. On repeat. A necessary mantra. ⁠ ⁠ A door has opened. The collective memoir is being released piecemeal; incoherent chapters and snippets of prose. We are absorbing [remembering]; Big questions formed, answers on the tip of tongues seemingly unable to form words to express...Dreams, stray memories that feel like visions of another time, real-time reminders through physical experience. Righteous rage and bone aching sadness and that feeling that is felt in the instinctive clench of your jaw- crushing teeth to keep from saying the thing that isn't safe, not acceptable; to keep from screaming until you have no breath left and your throat is raw... ⁠ ⁠ ⁠

⎟⁠ ⁠And here I sit. What is this energy? What is mine? What have I been unwilling to surrender? What have I allowed to latch onto and siphon the life from me- what parasite have I allowed to use me as it's host. Mind grasping to sort what is a felt sense, a knowing, a purging, a reclamation. Ebb and flow. I'm tired. How can there be more?

LET GO.

Fucking let it go. ⁠

Let me go. ⁠

You aren't welcome here anymore. ⁠

It hurts too much. It now hurts more to hold on, than it does to let go. ⁠

LET GO. ⁠

Stop distracting. ⁠

Face it. ⁠

I know- it hurts. ⁠

Let it go.⁠

I am safe.

I am safe.

I am safe.

⎜𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅 ⎜⟁ 𝟸/𝟼/𝟸𝟷

// from the journal