Chrysalis

 I've been through a lot. I've been through so much I don't even remeber a lot of it. Some of it got locked away, I'm sure on purpose. Some of it was obliterated by my brain in a loving gesture. "You can't deal with this... I will make sure you never have to".

Some of it comes back in little morsels when my mind seems to believe I'm ready to face it again. The little memory gets held up to the light; small and precious and trembling in fear of rejection. And it fits perfectly into the broken puzzle of my tortured past. But the more I put together of my past self, the more grace I am finally able to extend to her.

She wasn't all victim, she wasn't all villain. She was someone trying to make due with the hand life dealt her, same as the rest of us. She was young and malleable and fell into too many ideas, too many traps for her intention, so many that her essence was dilluted in so many different solvents, and there was little to nothing of her true self left.

She then thought her salvation lay in order, in discipline, in being stringent and strict with herself. But the process of fitting into this new mold was far too abrasive for the softness in her, so she became calloused and petty. Bitter and cold on the surface, so no one could pierce through her again. 

I think in this tragedy, that was the one part that saved me. I am now starting to realize I am still here under all the charred layers of my previous iterations, of all the shields and exoskeletons I fitted over myself over the years. It's tough, and slow, and sometimes painful to remove all the rigid remains, but I am hopeful I still have enough of me to save underneath it all.