Setting Myself Free (A Poem)

I’ve done too many years
of being
scrunched up,
hunched over,
less than;
not feeling Worthy,
Good Enough,
Deserving.

Not knowing that
I
have the right
to walk the Earth
with the same confident footsteps
as others do.

Let me tell you,
it’s not fun.

This unworthiness
and lack of self-love
translated itself
into bodily terms,
informing my posture
as I tried to be smaller—
hunchedoverscrunchedup—
Not Really There…

endeavoring to walk
Unseen,
Unheard,
Unnoticed.

(For what goes unseen escapes
the often critical and always evaluating
eyes of others).

Tightness in my shoulders
and back—
manifestations of the
tension—
physically felt—in my efforts to
please
unpleasable others;
believing
if I just
tried
that little bit
harder
I’d unlock the door to
their approval,
recognition,
acceptance and
love.

(Not knowing that really
all it’s about
is approval,
recognition,
acceptance and
love for
self).

Sacrificing my first loyalty—to myself—
in my mute lack of protest, as I
chose
not to have
a voice.
Letting them
say
what they would.

My silence
an implicit compliance
with words that
cut to the
bone.

My body—faithfully—
absorbing it all.

Well, I’m done with that now.

Done with
self-denigration;
making myself wrong,
(To placate others
and make them right).

Done with
not speaking up for
myself
and what I know to
be true.
(Even when it’s clear
that the other person is expressing
deep pools of pain and frustration—
nothing to do with
me
at all).

I am choosing
instead
a new way of being.

One that’s self-sustaining—
kinder to me,
entreats me
to put myself first.

The foundation of my
well-being.

It started by extricating myself
from detracting relationships—
the kind that only served to
sever me
from my
self.

And forged ahead with self-forgiveness;
accepting
the role I played;
absolving the person I was
through long and
painful years of
reckless
self-abandonment.

Deepened,
as I started to heal
my hurt inner child.

And then the process
took over
under the force
of its own momentum.
And I started to
heal
in all sorts of
unforeseen ways…

Asserting my right
to walk in this world
an
equal.

Respecting that
nobody
has the right to hurt
anyone else.
(And that includes me).

Accepting my responsibility in
the burden
of pain—
people only interact with us
in the ways we
allow
them to.

Wisening to the worth of
my softness,
kindness and compassion:
(The same qualities
that—not tempered with boundaries—
opened the doors
for people to
interact with me in
whatever way they
would).

Using my breath to
release
tension when I
hunchoverscrunchup
as I walk in the world.

And as the healing
deepened,
took roots;
a beautiful flower
blossomed inside and

I noticed…

the miracle that I am.

Recognized:

all I have been,
all I have done—
already!—
in this lifetime.

Learned to love myself
and what that really means:
something as simple and profound as putting
my own greatest good first.

(Even when that means
disappointing others.

Accepting that that’s to do with them.
Nothing to do with me
at all).

It’s been a time of quietness,
solitude,
as I gifted myself the
time and space needed
to excavate
the deepest
darkest
recesses of self;

bringing them to the light.

I’ve been resting underground
like a cicada—
though not nearly as long—
as I’ve learned
to love,
to nurture,
to value
my
truth;

to love,
to nurture,
to value
my
self

just as
I am.

Only allowing
into my kingdom
those who supported,
sustained my growth.

Now I’m stretching my wings,
(Yes, now I have wings, where before there were only stumps!)
Making ventures
into the world—
exploring
this new way of being.

Committing
to be honestly
authentically
me.

(Whether others like it
or
not).

To say what I really think and feel—
not hide behind
walls of convention.

To find the strength to
speak up (with
compassion)
when conflict occurs,
not silently cry
inside.

Practicing self-awareness,
catching myself
when I
slip,
revisit
old patterns.

Honoring myself and honoring others—
for in acknowledging the
sacredness of self
I must accept the
sacredness of all, and, with that
everyone’s
right to their own path.

As I walk in the world
I wonder
how will I respond,
how will I hold myself,
when I cross paths with
words of blame and shame;
come face to face with those who—
whether consciously or not—
try to tear me
down
with their words…

I hope I will no longer give them permission.

That their words
will reflect off the deep well of
self
I’ve been nurturing;
unable to penetrate
my depths.

Minute ripples
on the surface that
soon disperse.

I hope that
I will bless them silently and move
gracefully on.

Knowing they’ve crossed my path for
a reason,
but that doesn’t mean I have to walk with them
hand in hand.

Knowing I have the choice.

(Photo by Carla Arenas)