what it means to be proud
it took too many years
for me to be free
from the contempt
forced on me
always making me feel smaller
than you were
knocking me down
me losing my identity
giving up my right to believe in myself
what a horrible mother you were
of frustration and tears
to break barriers
sure would have been easier
knowing my value
you were supposed to be on my side
did it without you
lived an honorable, scarred life
healed all the wounds
inside and out
ups and downs
gains with each effort
failure was not
you weren’t ever my safety net
so much better than what was
my time has come
achieving my greatness
feeling good in my skin
owning the center
whole, and comprehending peace
it raises me above your pettiness
and your disgusting competition
A lifetime of difficulties landed hard.
Years of sadness, extremes, and bullshit highs.
Insecurities abounded and chaos prevailed.
Welcome to my world.
I was educated on “What will the people think?” stability. Happy, healthy home – yeah, that was an illusion.
Inconsistent love led to inward rage,
me only always wanting to run away.
Her generation’s dysfunction and the ones before were handed down.
The family poison designed to slowly kill your mind over time.
But she never counted on me fighting hard for my sanity.
I wouldn’t accept this lame gift fraught with pain.
So I cut ties and let her go.
It helped to put up clearly marked boundaries.
I could finally breathe.
I rose above the insanity to find my peace.
Then she died.
The drama spanning generations ceased.
My inheritance was freedom.
Something she never experienced.