I try to think back
and remember what safety felt like.
I try to find the last time I felt it.
I want it back.
I want to re-create it. Build a womb of my life.
But I can’t remember how.
It seems the womb was a gift
and I was taught not to ask for generosity but just to give.
I’ve been giving everything I can…
all of my effort.
And I still here them whispering “not enough, not enough, not enough.”
Who is that?
No name responds… So I name them;
Bad things, they are bad things and they have come not as gifts but as the water that fills the holes of what has been stollen from me.
I try to reframe my pain and anger and validate it at the same time.
I feel confused. I feel like I’m not doing enough. Never enough to get out of this…
never enough to deserve the gift of safety again.
Something happened between then and now that made me worth less –
than when I was perfect.
What was it?
Perhaps it is not something that I asked for but rather
something given to me disguised as a gift.
Perhaps this pain does not belong to me but I have held it because I think it is polite to accept what I am given and never ask for more or less.
Maybe I am not actually worth less…
perhaps my body and mind are tired of holding you now.
Maybe I can just let this go and
finally, maybe, feel safe again.
I could do it…
If I felt safe enough.