(NOTE: Inspired by a journal about past events, does NOT reflect the present.)
Oh this life. I was her artist, and now there is a new artist. I am stripped of identity, of hiding behind skills and abilities, of every shallow reason I am worthy. I am worthy because I cook, I am worthy because I dance, I am worthy because I write, I am worthy because I can put a shelf together, I am worthy because I am smart. Now my skills feel meaningless as Girlfriend and Girl watch each other in open-mouthed awe, and I am reduced to nothing. I think nothing is exactly where I am supposed to be, but it is terrifying.
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I want to read all of Girlfriend’s texts. I want to pore through her journals and scrape my heart with sharp evidence of their love. I want to hear every word they say. I want to throw dignity out the window in search of certainty and comfort, in search of a reprieve from the ripping open, soul-rending pain. But no. Let go. Stop asking. Let go. Dare to trust Girlfriend. Can I dare to trust her and believe what she says? That she loves me more and more? That she is not going anywhere? That I am her baby? That I am her queen? That I am number one? Do I dare believe this?
And can I believe in my own desirability, in my own worth, in my own place in this relationship, in this life? Can I see I am beautiful, that I am worthy not because I am standing by Girlfriend’s side, but because I am always fucking worthy? Can I believe our relationship is equal, that I am just as attractive, just as intriguing, just as skilled, just as glorious as she is? For so long I have put my identity into Girlfriend, into her appearance, her abilities, hiding behind her, and now this is gone. I am not just a mother who somehow tricked her into falling in love with me, just an aging woman whose prime is past. I am goddess fire, I am love incarnate, I am walking galactic royalty, I am Queen.
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Spirit says: “Forge on, dear Queen. And you will see. You will see, Rejoice in this moment, in this discomfort, find solace here for the waters you are crossing may be dark and murky, the winds may whip you to and fro, the waves may seem threatening and ominous, but you. You are meant for this journey, meant to navigate these seas, they are for you. And the land that is waiting? Oh, so sweet. The land that is waiting? Oh, so precious, grapes and honey and bliss beyond all imagination. Where you are going is beyond all of your wildest dreams, so have faith, sit in trust, breathe in and out of this journey, this portal, this moving through. Let it break you open. Let it break you free so you can fly.”
“Let go. Let go and trust. TRUST. TRUST. TRUST that you will be unshakeable, that all you have been wishing for is rushing toward you, that all will be well and more than well, it will be sublime, it will be heaven on Earth, it will be destiny and fiery truth and golden flame and sacred magic. Trust. Trust this. Follow the path, heed the signs, listen to your intuition, allow yourself to become all that you are, dear soul, it is coming. It is coming, and it will be grand. Beauty beyond anything you have ever seen.”
I do not need to insert myself. I do not need to include myself. I do not need to clutch at a role no one is interested in giving me. I do not need to behave in a way that convinces me I am part of a trio instead of a straggler clinging to a duet. I only need to surrender and let myself be broken open, let myself flounder in the deep and know I will not drown, know I am being set free, know I will learn to fly.