They watched her
Once again abandon her Life
The one she’d patiently cobbled together
Using the best parts of her fragmented dreams—
The mosaic that sparkled with a vitality that a straight road and a smooth pavement
Could never have mapped for her.
She abandoned the Life she’d consecrated to making beauty from shards
One more time
Hoping for the consideration of a family
Who could not value her
Who would not grieve her
Even if she died.
They watched her relentless silent plea to be known by those who didn’t know themselves
Shrivel her into the unrecognizable
A dry shell of the woman she’d once allowed herself to be and they grieved her
While she screamed inside herself
Not aware that she was dying.
My heart is broken open with a recent intense awareness (more intense than usual) of how many of us dear human beings are giving up our own precious lives, because we’ve been taught that we must have the approval or attention or understanding of our families in order to fully live.
I will not tell you that this is easy, this creating a life that those around us likely never will understand.
I also will not tell you that it’s impossible. We do it when we make connection with those who can connect to our longings and when we release the grasping for those who can’t.
And I’ll never tell you that it’s not worth it.