An Open Letter to Me (hands placed on my heart)
I am so sorry.
Sorry for bullying you.
For speaking down to you as though you had no value, imagining and trying to take the breath from your lungs.
I’m sorry for ignoring you. I didn’t allow you to have a voice and if you did speak up whether it was pain hunger fear or sadness I shut those feelings down, but you still carried all of it, alone.
I’m sorry I shamed you and begged God to forgive you when forgiveness was not needed and shame was only the shadow cast by religion.
I’m sorry I starved you and pushed you past your physical limits only to still be dissatisfied and angry.
I’m sorry I tortured you through all four of my pregnancies, not allowing you to feel the awe and wonder of growing two small humans and blaming you for the two lost. Refusing to grieve while you still carried it all alone.
I’m sorry I made you feel as though you were never enough. Pretty enough. Thin enough. Fit enough.
I’m sorry I left you to carry the grief of a dream lost, living each day full tilt while you were slowly dying.
Today, my dear friend I want you to know that I love you. You are so valuable and necessary. I will take time to sit quietly to focus on your breath. To give thanks for it. To still my mind so I can hear your voice and take notice of you and how you are feeling.
I will face fear and sorrow with you and when you are ready I will release it with you.
You are enough. Just because you are you. I will not allow other voices or my own to shame you any longer with the standards and rules that have nothing to do with God’s heart.
I will nourish you.
Move with you.
I will grieve dreams not realized. I will dream again, allowing you to participate, heeding your cautions and and leaning into your childlike faith.
We are one.
You and me.
I will honor that union, be intentional in my care of you and us. Together we will live out this life feeling all our feels together.
Everything in between. You no longer need to be on defense.
I love you.