A Cleansing Fire

As the rising heat from the dumpster fire that was my former life singed my soul, I walked away slowly with my back to the aftermath and felt lighter, brighter somehow. I could feel the slow spread of a smile creep across my face. For the better part of a lifetime I had been the dutiful daughter, the best friend to all: listening, helping, being there; a devoted employee: working hard, staying late and never being fully appreciated or compensated; a selfless partner: putting their needs in front of my own, being the supportive one, the caring one, the cheerleader, the rock. All this and for what? To be told I'm lacking, not good enough, not qualified, not strong, years worth of putting in the time and dispensing heartfelt advice to go and do the exact opposite. To start the cycle again and again and again to no end. When is enough, enough? I took my life and I encircled it with the metaphorical combustible. The spark within me, so charged, so past the breaking point, that I exploded. The flames raged hot and bright and strong. They engulfed every part of my being, until there was nothing left but me. To start anew; a phoenix reborn from the flames of herself for herself and no one else.