Find your way home.

 

Seeing my ex recently made me think that I am the villain. He's that good at manipulating the situation. He was in a such dark place, his words journeying out of his wounded ego. It was a pity to carry such low energy. He was enumerating the many times I have caused him pain and I was like: where in the world of childhood trauma are these coming from?

I remember the same man years ago at that parking lot, I looked at him in such compassion. I just had it in me to take care of people, giving them what I hoped to receive back. This started with lunch money here and there. He'd drive, I'll do the rest. The gas money was paid by his mom and I wouldn't want to take that responsibility off her.

There was something about wounded people I was so attracted with. When people would ask for my help, it'll always be a yes. I was taught early in life to be the people pleasing nice girl, always waiting for the next validation.

We were a tag team wrestling life, but it felt like I was the only one fighting. He was cheering me and telling me I was enough while I kept reaching for a tag but didn't receive one. We both lost the game, but I was the one who got all the bruises.

Who heals the healer when she's the one who needs the healing?

At first, I was in denial. I was on my head. I was thinking that I can just study my way through healing and shoving everything down so deep no one could see my wounds. 

But healing isn't shoving. Healing is letting go. Healing helps you make the space for something new to emerge. Healing is forgiving yourself for the decisions you made when you needed to survive and understanding and accepting that people – these souls – we do not meet them just because. It was the whole universe conspiring in our favor, even if it doesn't feel like it.

When we were together, he was perfect for me. I have loved this person the way love was defined by my childhood. At that time, he was who I needed to be with. I had to deal with his manipulative tendencies that definitely also stemmed from his childhood so I can define my codependency and my God Complex behavior, among many other faults. He was my favorite drug, after my mother. I was the person who had to be strong all this time and I had to be broken down into miniscule pieces, I had to go through shit so she I finally find my way home – which is all along, inside me.