Cognitive Dissonance
The you in my head and the you in the flesh are entirely different people. But I can't speak to actions and intentions you refuse to tell me about. So this is what I am left with.
I know you to be a violent person who would repeatedly harm a child and the automatic excuses I make for you are quite literally sickening.
It was your first time raising a child.
You didn't have good role models.
You did the best you could.
You were dysregulated.
You were clearly unwell.
Why do I still feel like any of this is my responsibility? As if I could have been a vicious enough child to earn the stinging pain in my cheek.
It still feels unnatural to extend kindness and compassion to little me when I know I'm disappointing you. It gets difficult to breathe, difficult to eat. A pendulum vibrating in the center of revulsion, repelled by poles of self love and self hatred.
They say you've done enough therapy when you can work, love, and be loved. The last one is a lot harder than anticipated. But I am willing to learn, though heat rises and burns through my leathery skin, I keep feeding fuel into my hearth.
I will prevail. No longer the shrunken charcoal of a liar, but in this moment on the surface of my mind, you still conspire, choking the juvenile throat of my desire, and I am so very afraid.
So I pray. Dear me, keep your eyes on that hearth. Do not cave in to ancient alarms. Turn away from old refrains and keep your eyes on a brilliant second star.
No matter how far
I am strengthening,
toiling, reinventing,
resurrecting my north star
-NOVA