I am worth something. A big something.
I have been told that I am worthless. I have been beaten down and convinced that I do not matter. I have been controlled, manipulated and lied to. I have made myself into someone I never wanted to be. I hurt people I never intended on hurting, in order to make someone happy. I made myself small and delicate so that someone else could feel big and strong. My thoughts were not my own, my actions were not derived from my intentions, my goals no longer matched my beliefs and my priorities dwindled down to solely one person. My happiness was no longer my own.
The prominent figure from which these changes stemmed from, left faster than I could say “I’m sorry,” for a reason I wasn’t even sure of. However, the damage caused stuck around a little longer. I no longer had a clear road to walk down (which I found was better than the warped road I was previously on), a priority to tend to or someone else to please. How was I supposed to go on without the one thing that I felt kept me rooted? Shortly after, I learned that those roots were in fact, chains.
Despite all of this, I am still standing on my own two feet. I awoke this morning breathing easier, my chest not feeling so constricted. I looked in the mirror and saw a smile that didn’t hold as much weight as it once had. I looked above me and realized that the ceiling didn’t make me feel small. I left the house and despite the cold, I felt the sun on my skin. I forgot what shoes I was wearing today because as I walked, I held my head high. I lost track of time today because I wasn’t counting the minutes until I was no longer alone. I didn’t contemplate my mistakes today because I was too busy focusing on opportunities to come. Today, I needed no one to remind me the color of my shoes, the hand on the clock or the mistake I made yesterday. Today, I lived simply, and rather than worrying about what was to come, I simply was.
We often forget that there isn’t just one part of us that dominates the rest when it comes to our bodies. Often times when there’s a deep pain in our chest as we mourn, we forget that our heart isn’t the only organ that we feel. As we mourn, our lungs still breathe and blood still flows through our veins. They recognize the pain inflicted on the heart and in turn do the one thing they can for it- continue to do the job they are made for. A hurting heart does not mean a hurting body. A hurting heart does not need a companion to share in its sorrow. A hurting heart needs everything to run as it should while it processes, develops and overcomes. My hurting heart does not stop my hands from writing.
You did not stop me. You did not destroy me. You did not break me. I used to think that my happiness depended on other people. I used to think that my worth depended on other people. But things will change from here on out. I will be walked next to, not walked on. I will be appreciated, not disregarded. I will be happy, not because of someone else, but because of me.