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Question:
"Sometimes I recognize these eyes staring back at me from cracked mirrors. On these days, I am grateful. But on other days, when the weight of past hurts, traumas, broken hearts, and unfulfilled dreams pulls me into the narratives my heart is trying to leave behind, I find these eyes cutting through the parts of me, the light trying to heal. Is healing continuously stitching ourselves back together in a way where we love ourselves more with each petal we bloom?"
Angelo,
I lay on my back the other evening after a tough day. All the ghosts were with me. The hurts, traumas, and broken hearts. The narratives I have been trying to leave behind and exhausted, I prayed for help and healing and muscled myself toward a vision of who I'd like to be by forcing a healed ideation of myself to walk through my mind and imagination. But quickly, an invisible blade cut this dream in half and asked me to stop trying to eliminate these parts of me. Showing me how to allow them their time with me and in me. Their contribution to the totality of me. And in softening my resistance— my story of how wrong and broken I was, the ghosts melted into me and the bed with a groan of relief. A voice as clear as a bell climbed up from the center of my belly and gently reprimanded me, "No more fixing."