The Loudest Mind, The Quietest Month

A part of my life was empty without the acknowledgment of knowing how to think, eat, or breathe without being on autopilot. I was a machine before I knew what a heartbeat was, and I continued my life in a way where imposter syndrome was both my best friend and my enemy. My ego continued to play games throughout my teenage years.

The mirror lied to me constantly, and my inner child hid away. I was so used to doing things on command, without understanding why I was doing them in the first place. I saw myself stuck in a cycle of low vibration, shame, and sin.

Who was this person I was looking at in the mirror? Why couldn’t I recognize them? I had seen them before, but I couldn’t place my finger on it.

I was screaming from the depths of myself, begging to be let out, for the truth to finally set me free.

On the eve of spring, the sunrise kissed my skin like I had never felt before. I was finally feeling… different. Alive, even. Seeing things for the first time but truly noticing them.

I felt myself waking up from a hundred years of sleep. And yet, I rise every day.

Why does today feel like I just met myself for the first time?

I began to see the start of everything falling apart in my life, and for the first time, I was feeling emotions. I knew anger had a name but to open myself and let it flow created a shaking in me.

Tears I had sealed away for decades finally melted off my shoulders, watered my soul, and replenished a drought of emotion I had long shut out.

My mind silenced in the rushing waters of my heart.

I finally felt peace and I had never been more afraid.