The Empty Girl

A soul piece reintegrates. I see my past and present through new eyes. This time, I hate it.

Last time (See Blog 13. https://www.abarebearwoman.com/post/___13 ) I saw my codependent relationship with Mom, admitted to the toxicity in the early years of my marriage. But those are my relationships with two of the most influential people in my life. At the beginning of this mad journey, I needed their permission to keep moving.

Striving for wholeness means disrupting other people's lives, their equilibrium. Mom and Husband encouraged my healing. Even if they couldn't always keep up. And I no longer feel ashamed of taking this long, winding path. No longer feel responsible for Mom.

After so many reintegrations, reliving trauma after trauma, peeling away the rot and decay...what could I possibly find so daunting?

This time, I brave my relationship with myself.

I see the empty girl.

The year I met Husband, I had a terrifying experience in drama class. Our professor led us all in a visualisation into ourselves. I found absolutely nothing there. And I mean nothing.

I. Was. Empty.

Except for the tiniest speck of light. Flickering. Dying.

so small

Easy to miss if I hadn't been searching so damn hard. And when I found it, I said 'oh, there you are', and nearly passed out. I fell to the floor and my professor held me as I sobbed. Caressed my hair. Kept me safe.

As soon as I touched it, the speck grew larger and larger. Until it burst out of me. Through the room, through the hallways, outside, through trees and streets, into the sky. Where it met something profound. Unfathomable. Beyond. I cried harder. Because the emptiness didn't subside even though the light had grown so big.

How could I be so hollow? How was it possible to keep moving, talking, living? Nothing inside, just a performance of happy. A husk acting like a person. That's all I was. And I was so convincing.

I left drama class and pretended the sobbing was a strange hitch in an otherwise completely normal life. Despite the night terrors. The dropping out of classes. The stabbing pains in my gut. The lower back issues making it harder and harder to walk.

This is the moment tiny spider web cracks appeared in my carefully created illusion. I dropped out of school under the pretence of taking some grand adventure. Running from the inevitable. The empty girl couldn't pretend anymore.

This is me. My actual life began at 19. Everything before that was only a projection relying on others to know it was real. A light show. And though she's empty, this soul piece deserves to come home. She kept me going when I was made from nothing.