I woke up to her today–the inner asylum, the cage where I hide my sacred rage at all the ways I have learned to keep myself small. It is the place I used to run to when I was a kid and got too big for the world and mistook my differences for wrong.
In there, I grew a lovely crew of voices to tell me the ten thousand ways I need to be more, better, different. The spiral-round sound became my one, true, reliable–the one that shows up when no one else does. The one to never disappoint me or leave me alone. The one that today pretends to be a tired longing to say in bed and hide my head from this feeling of “not knowing.”
But I have grown weary of these walls that don’t allow me to see anything but my own limitations.
The key, I now see, is to wake up to this prison-ality that has been condition by society’s grand loss of humanity and say, “Thank you for keeping me safe all these years, but ENOUGH!”
I am enough.
I now see that I have always had the key that will open the door. I wake up a little more each day from this trance and ask these loyal voices and defensive walls, “How can I show up to the truth today? How can I grow beyond my own limitations?”
Then I take one step, and then another, until I walk out and am free.