Sarah Nyhan

It’s not that other women hated you.
It’s that your mother hated you.

And you never really faced that full on.

Of course. 
Because it wasn’t safe to. 
For the longest.
The hardest thing. 

You were never safe. 
Ever.

You never decided to be strong. 
You were just forced to figure out how to survive. 
You didn’t even have the luxury to die.

There comes a point where you have to do the hard work of choosing yourself over everyone else. For once. Even though nobody else ever did.

Or you are going to turn into them. You are going to start hurting people like they did. Out of decades of pain they taught you how to stuff down.

You’re not happy anymore.
Anyone who has a modicum of health can tell.

By the way you act as you push everyone away who dares to get anywhere close to all the walls you built to fortify yourself. Against feeling. Anything at all.

Except forward. 

I tried it also.
To outrun… everything.

Turns out I am only human.
Uninterestingly regular.
Just like everyone else.

There was actually no greater purpose for I was put through. It was just completely shit.

Quite disappointing.

But that’s gotta somehow in the end be okay.
Or there’s no hope.

What SHOULD I do?

No, what do I WANT to do.
That’s all I have left.

And what I won’t do is waste another fifty years trying to convince or change anyone else ever again at my own expense.

When I finally realized they always knew better. They were just really committed to playing dumb in order to keep me dancing on the end of that damn chain. Forever. Without a concern in the world that it cost me EVERYTHING. 

Some people are actually like that.

I was so married to delusion. So hell-bent on never giving up. Because that was all they ever gave me. All I ever was told and sold: endless dreams. 

To keep me running. 
Keep me working for them. 
Slaving on.
Without the foresight to ever start living my own Life.
It never even occurred to me.

Until that day, that one day. 
Where you’ve given them DECADES. 
And then they can’t even show up for you for 24 hours. When you really need them. 

That’s what it takes sometimes. 
For some of us to wake up.
To see what’s been going on the whole damn time.

I am SO glad I lost my religion.
God let it go.
So I could finally find myself.

It feels like I have already died a thousand times. Over my whole damn life. That’s why I am not afraid to lose you anymore.

When I realized you were never really there.
You were always gone.
So long ago.

You just kept me around as long as I let you use me.

You drained me.
Then discarded me.
Like trash.

That’s the part right there. 
That we’ve been trying to rush past.
This whole time.

Those two words: like trash.
Less than ten letters.
To sum up a world, a lifetime of hurt.

When you don’t even know how to care for yourself.
When you gotta learn, gotta teach yourself.
Gotta figure it out.
Because nobody else will.

Nobody taught you.
Not like how it was supposed to be.

Oh you got other people.
For sure.
As much as a person could reasonably be expected to. 

But nobody has you.
Not like you do for them.

Run, run, run child.
Keep running, keep running.

Right?

How’s that worked so far?

Maybe next time you’ll get it right.
Maybe next time you’ll figure out how to keep them…

Can’t you see?
They can never let you win.
They can never give in.

Because then they’d lose you. 
Taking care of them.
Above all else.

Even yourself.

And yes, that shit is sad as fuck.
As long as it has been.
Too long.
Maddening.

Especially when you now see you really got no one to even sit with in the realization of this shit. It’s still all and only you. Alone.

My fears found me.
And it’s true:
Everything was as bad as I thought.
Even worse.

So…
Is that it?
Is that all?

Is there not anything left?
Can I never expect anything more?
Is it all just destiny?

This is where your theology, and mine, matters the most. Maybe.

Can you actually walk away? With any guarantee that a better life will be there on the other side?

And what if walking away is only half the answer?
What if walking away is only the first step?

What if this thing you do now, that feels like climbing Mount Everest alone, is only the first step? 

What if the “good news” is that from this day forward you will have to show up for yourself again. And again. And again. And again. Day after day after day after day. Hour after hour. Sometimes minute by minute. 

In order to have a Life you actually Love. A Life where you aren’t waking up every morning constantly disappointed that it’s not yet over.

People like us. 
We can’t even fathom that.
We don’t even have a frame of reference.

That it’s possible for us.

But that’s why anyone’s happiness bothers you so much. That’s why you are tempted to hate them.

It’s easier to look down on them. From your intellectual high horse. It’s easier to dismiss them as stupid. Not smart. Despise them for being so lucky as to never have to face the “real” world.

Maybe the “real” world was just others never showing up for you. 

Could it be so simple as to let yourself want more and actually choose differently? 

What if God didn’t ever remove the person, remove the pain because it is really important that you learn to finally choose yourself? Finally give to yourself what you always give away for free to everyone else?

Could God be that good?
Would your theology ever allow it?

Or are you just here in service of others egos?

Maybe the music never died.
Maybe they just convinced you to stop singing.

Run little grrrl, run.
Like what’s left of your Life depends on it.