Once invisible, I had finally been seen.
Randomly, by a single person simply being kind, who never asked me to apologize.
From there, the waterfall began. Slowly, others saw, and in turn, I started to see.
Who I had been before that still-vivid moment had become nothing but a dream.
But there it was again, a glimpse of myself.
So few really saw.
Coming out.
Showing up.
No longer scared or selective about giving my true self a chance to become.
But of course, not all things happen, even with the perfect environment.
Somewhere along the line, the wrong person found me open.
He knew there were already wounds there.
Knew I had been hurt before.
And still, he crossed what should have never been crossed.
Then did it again.
And when I pulled myself back inside, he was angry I no longer trusted him near the door.
Feeling entitled to the trust he had already betrayed.
He blurred every line I tried to keep clear.
Took the closeness of a relationship while hiding behind the word friend.
Made himself at home in the space I was still trying to feel safe in.
And when I noticed the lies, the missing pieces, and the deleted messages, he made my reaction the problem.
As if my fear was the betrayal.
As if the damage had not started with his hands.
Now I sit here somewhere in between. A sort of limbo.
The heaviness of the muck weighing me down, as if I lay in a mire.
Who knew being seen could be so exhausting and hurtful.
Growth isn’t easy. It’s hard even for those willfully engaging in it.
And when others cause a disruption in that growth, sometimes it can be hard to bounce back.
Hard to hold onto the hope that the ability to continue growing has not been stunted beyond repair.