Piece Of Me

There is a theme emerging all over my life. Although each time it emerges it is not about me. It does seem to be shaking out pieces of my past that need not shake loose. Pieces that are private and painful.

There is a piece of me that the world does not get to have. A piece of myself that I keep inside for a reason. It is painful and it is no ones business. The world can have my words, my sense of humor, my laughter, my mindless musings, my social media babbling. But it cannot have this piece. The tears I have cried on it’s behalf are sacred. They have cast a hardness inside of me that is needed. I survive today because of this piece of me, it’s strength, it’s steadfastness, it’s ability to numb the pain of things that are not permitted in my open forum.

Some close to me have seen this piece of me, when I trust them enough to hold it’s sacred secrets. Few hold this privilege.

The theme that emerges from the world mirrors this piece of me. And the strength of others empowers me further. I silently hold their hands, vigilant in our brokenness. I stand as a century at the gates of unification. Together we fight the hidden demons that threaten to steal away our very will to live. But the important part is that we fight. We fight together, whether we are screaming out loud or are silent. The monsters we fight are gone from our lives but live inside our minds like the big bad wolf threatening to reclaim us. We fight not physical battles, but battles that are waged in the what if. What if I had done this. What if they do that. The what ifs are more dangerous than flesh. They tear at our foundations, making every waking hour torture. And every sleeping hour a nightmare. If sleep even comes at all.

It lives in me, makes me just imperfect enough to be considered a rare treasure. I am that one misprinted stamp worth more than every other 15 cent stamp. And even in the reflection of this theme, I grow stronger. I become fierce. It drives me to be better. As much as I wish I never had to have had experienced the things that created this piece of me, I know that those experiences were the coals that forged my strength. I honor the past and refuse to relive it. I am the one in control of me now. Not the invisible creatures that prey at old wounds. The scars are trophies, they prove that I have won. And always will win.

Dear World, you cannot have this piece of me.