LOST IN THE LABYRINTH OF SELF

With the help of my entire family and friends, she sunk me deep in doubt and helplessness. My thoughts and feeling were crowded by indecision, the pain of social conformity, the guilt of feeling like I do not belong, the shame of daring to imagine I can do something different. For so long, she made me believe that I had to have a protuberant title before my name. Her voice was amplified by the constant jabs of my family, they stood behind her and cheered me on away from my dream, and stupid little me saw it as support and kept going.

For 9 years I had been following the wrong path like sheep, with my shepherd leading me to the slaughter, I followed, mindlessly. My hesitation was met by false encouragement, an incentive towards the direction she wanted me to follow. When the gentle way did not work, she brought in the muscle, the guilt trip and gas lighting of parents, the fear of loosing it all. Fighting back felt futile and made no sense, in the beginning.

What happens when your voice is tuned down, shoved down your throat, and other voices talk louder, are affirmed and encouraged. What happens when the words that are cutting you down start to make sense, and you can no longer hear your own voice? My mind got foggy and the fog only got thicker with every step I took. The hand I took to guide me felt comfortable and safe, I trusted her wholeheartedly. She promised me a shore, a beach I could lie on, she promised me a steady sail, that beyond the fog it got clearer and warmer, that the sunrays would hit my face and I would be home, I would be happy. And in the embrace of the fog, my soul went quiet, and I mistook it for peace.

With the passing of every moon, my foggy mind grew weary, it wanted the beach, it couldn’t wait, it knew it was dying. I understood that I had to change course, for I was so unhappy. But that meant letting go of her hand, and that scared me as much as the fog that was choking me. When she realized I was getting over the fear, she turned on me “you will be back! You cannot do this, you will starve to death without me!”

I walked away, breaking into a cold sweat. I figured if I was going to die, I did not want my last moments to be filled with feelings of being lost and afraid. I had to dream, even when the dreams scared me stiff.

I have to be honest, she still lingers. Every now and then, when I receive rejection, or run dry in my writing, I feel her chilling presence eyeing my failures. I feel the resentment and shame she carries in regards to my decisions. I still am searching for the warm beach, but until then, I am content with my clear vision.

I am finally getting out of my own way.