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Mountains in Clouds

To My Shame Voice

Dear Shame Voice,


I want to take a minute to thank you. Not for the things you’ve said to me, but for what those things have done. You’ve told me I’m broken and unworthy. You’ve told me I do not belong. You’ve told me that my life is deep-rooted weeds that people only want to pull. You once told me that the only way to survive this was to escape it, the only way to live was to die - and once, I listened. But, I understand you. I forgive you. Because I know why you said what you did, now. When I was younger I couldn’t see it, like standing on tip-toes at the living room window trying to see out to the first snow. We had two feet of it on the lawn, but all I could see was the gray of the clouds and a meek reflection of who I wanted to be. But, now I’m standing on the shoulder of giants and I can see so far ahead. You did it all so I wouldn’t have to be hurt, because you didn’t want to be hurt. And now, more than ever, I’m okay with letting that in. Because the more I avoided pain, the less I knew joy. If you hide from the sun, you can’t make shadow puppets on the sidewalk, tell stories about a princess in a castle, can’t know that the weeds you think I am are deeply-rooted prairie grass and my voice is stronger than yours, as strong as the wind that blows through it in Autumn to shake seeds loose and bring new life, as strong as those seeds in flame, I will grow again despite the burn of fire or harsh cold winter. And it was you that helped me realize just how strong I really am.


So thank you. I’m grateful for you. And everyone else may despise what you’ve done, but there’s beauty in starting over. I love you.


Sincerely and goodbye,


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