#finding self

One thing I’ve learned on this journey without my mom is how to survive without her.

Something she thought I’d never do.

When I hear other women’s stories about their relationships with their mom it really was an eyeopener for who my mother is.

Realizing she would take a man over her only child speaks volumes. Realizing that she would choose her vices over her only daughter. Realizing I was only a pawn to her not a human being.

Going no contact with my mother was not easy. How could it be when she was my everything. Being with her made me realize that isn’t what I wanted for my life. Being in her shadow and playing the role in her fantasy that she’s a great mother when she’s not.

Women my age have husbands and families now. I have a bunny and drive.. not even a car, that’s about it.

So for my mother to break no contact and in the email she tells me “may you found the peace you’re looking for- love you always and forever” without the “I” and you know how that I am an avid reader? That’s when I knew my mother did not know anything about her daughter. Her only daughter.

Not knowing or caring enough for your only child’s safety regardless of who they are with and how old they are is concerning. Not knowing if your only child had a meal that day is concerning.

Hard pill to swallow is my mother hates me. But I can’t take that personally because what she feels about me is not how I feel about me, and she will never get to experience what is like to be me and the circumstances I’m in. Everyday when I neglect myself is the pain I inflict onto myself by how I was raised.

Unseen

Somewhere in between

Pushing us to

A place we once knew

Through time

Through space

Deep sorrow

Like no tomorrow

Throbbing

Sobbing

Aching

Waking

A new

As the paint begins to chip the faucets steady their drip. The tree stands tall. 

As the floors  they strain and creak. Larger pipes protrude and leak. The tree stands tall. 

As the crumbling of the walls Dislocation in the halls. The tree stands tall. 

Steering in the ship Returned another trip. The tree stands tall. 

No longer feeling weak. Free of misery overcoming defeat. The tree stands tall. 

Heeding of the calls. Guided steps deter the falls. The tree stands tall. 

~Odalys M.~

She used to believe

that she could find her Self

if she searched enough

beneath muscle and tendon,

under the tissue,

behind the bone,

or pressed deep

into electric matter

buried beneath

dreams and neurons.

But she was seeking

and digging

all wrong.

It was shattered into fragments.

Scattered in the dirt.

Gathered up in parchments,

strewn in straw behind barns.

And it could take a lifetime

but if she could find it

maybe then she could love it.

So she started searching

in the dust that scatters

from the moth’s wing at night.

In words and paper

pencil and pigment.

In the tears of strangers

and friends

and enemies.

In the moss on a cobblestone

and bark on the tree.

In the remnants of stars

and dew of the dawn.

To unearth her Self

from the corners

and the cracks

the open fields

and rusted gates,

clay in the earth

and marble on the headstone.

Gathering the fragments,

dusting off the dirt.

Reading the old parchments,

sifting through the straw

and spending her whole lifetime

because if she can find it