Asters & Dandelions

What if I never know what it’s like to not be sad? What if I’m so tired from fighting all these years that I never have the energy to finish the fight? So I spend my whole life tired but still fighting in vein; never allowing myself the grace to rest nor the glory of winning.

What if I never find the courage to verbalize all the things that haunt my very presence? What if I never truly find my voice? Am I destined to spend my entirety being deafened by every insecurity, short coming, hypothetical, and demon? What if I don’t speak the same language as them? What if they’re screaming all the answers to a happy life at me but my broken conscience can’t decipher the secrets?

What if my husband dies or worse.. leaves- never feeling like he was enough for me even though he is the only force that has ever been able to fill the holes within my sad soul. What if he grows mad; blinded by the light of all the fluorescent lights I keep turning on and swearing it’s my own rays of sun when in truth, I still can’t find my own source of light.

What if I never learn how to be happy alone? & yet I never learn how to trust people? So I spend my entire life chasing people who are incapable of protecting and elevating me. So I waste all of my energy on people who never even knew how to love me? What if I never unlearn how to be overly critical? What if I hate myself too much for all the things I can’t change that I never believe I am worthy of the good humans? Yet I’m too critical of everyone else to know when I’m being loved by the good ones?

What if the only version of my life my children know is either I am gone or I am sad? What if they grow to believe I am sad because I am with them when in reality, I was sad all along.

What if I never heal all the broken bones my parents left me with and instead I just learn to walk hunched and limping because I never allowed myself the grace and rest to heal properly. What if my children learn how to walk through life by watching me and I never gave them the example they needed to learn how to walk tall and through me not healing, I was never able to give my children the tools to be unbroken. What if I cannot raise unbroken children unless I too am unbroken?

What if I never learn how to fix myself for my marriage and children? What if they lead their lives thinking they weren’t enough to push me to heal? When the truth has always been, they are the only beings that make me feel as if I am not completely broken.

What if I’ve been being broken into tiny pieces for so long that the puzzle is too difficult to put back together? Full of extensive patches of the same colors because I continue fueling the cycles that have broken me since I was a child. Pieces lost along the way making it an impossible task to reassemble myself into something whole. What if my pieces were destined to never be put back together? Instead people just pick through and take the pieces that fill their own voids. What if I wasn’t put on this earth to be happy after all? What if I was put here to simply give all the pieces of myself to make the people around me whole?