My closet is full of dark skeletons that I wish to go away, but don't.
Over the last several years I have tried to allow who I am to be who I was in life.
People no longer associated with me.
They found fault in everything I did.
They talked behind my back.
Truths became twisted to fit their narrow view of understanding.
As I was learning to love me, I found others no longer did.
My already fragmented trust was broken further.
Wasn't this process of being authentically me suppose to be freeing?
It was. Just not as I expected.
Looking back I realize I lost what held me back from being me.
Painful at the time, I now understand it was necessary.
Freeing was found in letting go.
This not only meant my feelings or emotions or roles, but of other people.
I did not choose to let anybody go. They left.
And perhaps that is what hurt the most. It wasn't my choice.
I felt abandoned and alone.
Until I realized that truth.
There was still a collection of people who loved me as I became me.
It was small, but their love was great. Real.
And I would rather have a handful of friends who love me authentically, than a world full of people who love me selfishly.