I haven’t written in a while. Here, that is. But today’s the day.
I’m walking into the interrogation room, pulling up a chair for fear and I’m looking it square in the eyes this morning. No hesitation, no darting gaze, no avoiding confrontation on my end. Nah, no more of that.
fear,
You riddled me terrified to walk in my own skin. You’ve lied and lied and somehow I believed you still. the last 23 years, it’s been nothing new. You haven’t shown up to my door with any new revelations or introductions. For so long, I took your whispers and made them truths. Whispers like, “you’re not actually good enough– don’t you see how you don’t measure up?” and, “you can’t even show up being fully yourself anyway, so why bother trying? You’ll be misunderstood and taken advantage of anyway.”
You’ve suited yourself up to the task, taken fundamental building blocks and called up a jury. And just like the apple on a tree long ago, you called my belovedness into question and simultaneously injected doubt into the equation. Not only that, you shamed me for taking a bite of your lies afterward. “Look at how good you had it? Pfft, you gave up future for your present. Now you’ll never be loved as you once could have been.” I could no longer digest Truth without your voice weaseling in and out through the lines. You made yourself so at home in the paragraphs and words– you almost had me fooled that you were Truth Himself. I’ll say it again to emphasize what I want you to take away with you as I kick you to the curb and post your eviction notice: you almost had me fooled. Almost.
You told me misunderstanding and conflict was my fault, and because I was flawed I should save myself from the pain and reject myself altogether. You told me that in order to be loved, known and accepted I needed to be who others wanted me to be. Hungry for knowledge, I took another bite and made the expectations my own. You told me I was rebellious, mean-spirited and had an agenda for every relationship I started walking towards. You called me sly, you called my witty humour dark and you told me to hide it all. I applaud you for feeding me lies and then pretending to protect me from them. You made yourself out to be a hero. But you were just finding situation after situation to build a case up against me. You took every bit of evidence you could find, pieced the scraps of my story together and made blanket statements about my heart, my present and my future. You claimed you knew it all and you had me figured out. Little did you know I wasn’t taking the seat you told me I deserved. Nah, I will not be the Judge in the court you like to play ‘lawyer’ in.
Because you think you know me– you think I’ll waver. You think I’ll mull it over and pound the gavel for justice (on your terms and definitions); that I’ll consider myself guilty and withdraw into a lifetime sentence of isolation and shame.
And I’ll give you this credit though– you did your best. You’ve been relentless. You had me right where you wanted me for a very long time: blindsided and wrapped up in so much insecurity and pain. Away from others, away from the light and hidden away from hope. Your only job was to keep me there, keep me immobile and keep me believing this was all my doing. And, oh, you tried for so long… So I’ll give you the pitiful participation award, but that’s the only semblance of a trophy you’ll receive from me.
Because you think you know me– you think I’ll cave when the pressure builds, when my face is more familiar to people around me and when I believe I’ve reached my breaking point.
And for a long time, I did.
I did cave.
I did give into you.
You wore multiple different masks, like shame, anxiety and depression. You played hide and seek in the home you made for yourself– the home I let you in. But today’s the day you walk out the door you came from. See, you’re not welcome here anymore. In the last stretch of time, you’ve tried to make yourself indispensable, a landlord playing the humble role of a janitor. You’ve tried to make yourself an asset and act as a voice of reason, while spewing garbage and hatred when I wasn’t looking. But as you can see, I don’t wake up in paralyzing fear anymore. I’ve taken the highlighter from your grubby hands, the one that you drew thin lines to condemn me, and rid you of your title as bookkeeper. You don’t get to hold the pen or be the marker of what it all means. You’re not some wise old soul who believes the best in others– you are deceitful and out to ruin every story you get your hands on.
Here’s the thing, fear: I see you for what you are.
No, you’re not a “healthy dose” or “humble” in the least.
You rot people from their insides out. Your only working title is to steal and destroy the destiny written over our lives that was spoken over us by the Judge before our eyes even knew what Light was.
I laugh, because you’re the one who’s actually terrified.
You use shadows to puff yourself up, to make yourself bigger and more daunting.
It’s all a game to you though, a distraction to keep yourself busy.
Because I know what your future holds– and it ain’t pretty.
So, goodbye fear. I won’t call you faithful friend, or provide you with nostalgic rhetoric on your way out. You don’t own any belongings here, so no, you don’t need an extra day to pack your things. Today’s the day. I know you’ll come knocking at my door again with lies and your puppy eyes, and when you realize I won’t let you in you’ll go looking for someone else to reside with.
That’s not within my control, but telling my story is.
You’ve played an important role– and unfortunately for you it’s not the way you intended.
So go ahead, be the invisible hater in the crowd. Try it out.
You may get my attention for a split second, but that’s about it.
I don’t have anything else to say because this conversation has now come to a close. You don’t get the final word, no. This isn’t a dialogue or a back and forth– you don’t get to interrogate me.
The jury’s out: you’re guilty.
You have been all along.
-cv.
chrstnvzrv 