Umbrellas
For my mom. She will always be a violent storm. I no longer need to go outside to feel her rain- I can watch the storm from inside where it's warm, and know that I have made my own safety. Yesterday, I was just a baby. I was born into a world of destruction. I cried and you fed me with lies of safety and security. I took those lies like a pacifier and slept my way through the trauma of my childhood. Yesterday, I was a child. I found excitement in the constant moving- new houses occupied by old monsters. I made new friends at new schools, and I used my second-hand umbrella to shield myself from your storm. You raised me to be resilient while you yourself stayed stuck in your own destructive patterns. Yesterday, I was a teenager. I used teen angst as a cover for my trauma-fed tantrums. I hid secrets from you and hid them better from myself. I felt the rain as the umbrella from my childhood finally gave way to my emotions. Yesterday, I was grown. I was a young adult...