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Unencumbered

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Once upon a time, I was lied to for over a decade. Not because I was careless, but because my heart and my actions were true. I stood for the health and welfare of those too young to understand. My patience and my hope were unwavering, because they were the only language my heart knew. I would not have survived without intervention—without grace— because hope without reciprocity becomes self-abandonment, and abandon myself, I did. What hurt most, in hindsight, was not only the betrayal, but the witnesses. Some participated. Some stayed silent. Some benefited. It is a strange thing to see people pray for healing while taking part in the wounding of another. Still, I do not curse those who watched or assisted. Their reasons belong to them. My hope for them, and for those they love, is that when darkness comes, they are met by someone like me— someone who does not look away, someone who stands in the weather, someone who speaks when it is uncomfortable to speak. Because they knew. And kno...
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The Story of Blame

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  Blame was the shield. As I pointed my finger, I didn’t have to face what was really inside me. If I was the victim now, I could be the hero later. Blame gave me distance and deflection. Career was the mask. I wanted to say: “I’m responsible now. I’m all grown up. Can’t you see? Don’t the numbers prove it?” A title. A way to pretend. To act as if external success meant internal transformation. It was order on the outside without order on the inside. And then we ask: why do we blame? Why is it so difficult to say, “That was my choice”? We love to own it when it’s in public and things are working in our favor. We love to let everyone know: “I decided that. I was the reason for that success.” But when it comes to failure, I can’t tell you how many fingers I’ve pointed. I can’t even begin to explain the logic I built up—the constructs inside myself—so that I could always find a platform of hope. Because if it didn’t matter what I had done, it was always because of what someone else di...
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The Résumé

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  I once believed her pain. She came to me weak, whispering, “I’m afraid,” and I answered with my heart. She used her power to curse, not to heal. She wore sorrow like silk and made it seductive, told a tale of crimes committed against her soul until I took on the sentence. I continued to reach out— my hand like a child, watching it get slapped away through the years. I was called delusional, while the truth stayed hidden behind my back. It caused me to doubt my mind, to question what I knew deep inside. The cornerstone on which she stands was built by these two hands. While telling others how worthless I was, I gave her that foundation freely, truly, and in love. The message was clear: I was the problem. I was the one to fear. So I took out the bat to punish myself, trying to fix all my flaws. I was trying to earn love— but it really wasn’t love at all. Pride fell, that’s for sure. Shame ruled. The lies conquered. And buried beneath what felt ...
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Because I AM

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I will love you beyond tomorrow because I never thought I would have today. I will love you beyond your expectations because I am always open to exploring on your behalf. I will love you in the dark places and hold your hand until the light returns—because no one held mine. I will understand you when the world does not, because I will never find time to judge you. The exploration of who you are is a gift, not a curse. The discovery of your borders is a glorious crusade, journeying between light and dark. Your authenticity does not scare me; it magnifies me. I will accept what you offer, help heal what is wounded, embrace your thoughts and ideas, and support your gifts as we embark on strange new destinations. I will… because I love you. And because no one knew how to love me. So as I sit here embracing today, preparing for tomorrow, I will be your guard. I will be your faith. I will be what you need. Because I am you.
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