One night, I broke down in the work bathroom. It was late and most people had gone home, so thankfully no one walked in. I wouldn’t blame anyone for crying in that bathroom, but I knew then that I had shrunk too much.
Forgive yourself -- you are innocent. Forgive your cousin -- he was weak and impulsive and is probably living with his guilt. Forgive your parents -- they were scared and weak.
Controlling her desire to control will always be the heartbeat, the lifeblood of a battle that will never fully recede, though it is indeed a war she is finally winning. She wins every time she stares her want down cold. Her steely eyes work to stop it dead. It's her wielded weapon, this ...
Know that she’s looking at times for a soft space to land; to let go without judgment, without being told she needs to be fixed. Without being asked what’s wrong. Without being condemned or looked down upon. Without being made to feel like she’s failed simply for showing another side of herself.
Some of us give up the fight, and shun people and society by locking ourselves away in houses surrounded by walls of tall prickly flowers: no one dare approach or you will be hurt. Blast ’em before they hurt you.
Kindness and compassion ran to our arms.
When we thought before we did not deserve the journey,
An inner voice kindly whispered,
“Go! Run and grab the opportunity to start over
and forgive yourself again.”