Guilt From Inherited Pain & Abuse
Holding the shame or weight of things that were inflicted upon you — carrying a debt you never owed.
I am most guilty of this.
This was the hardest for me to shed.
The guilt weighed me down like a therapeutic blanket.
I was heavy with shame.
Heavy with understanding.
Thoughts that swirled inside me were birthed from a place that never should exist.
A place of betrayal.
A place of treason.
Sometimes the things that happened to us really aren't our fault.
The choices that someone else makes and the hurt they inflict upon you is not meant for you to hold.
Yet we pick it up and carry it alongside our hearts and in our brains.
"We let it speak and give it a voice.
Shit, we even give it a name.
We say it must be meant to be, or that regardless it is something that shaped me."
Why can't it just BE?
Let the reason fall and the answers sting.
*It doesn't have to make sense*
It is pain.
It is anger.
It is blood, sweat and fucking tears!
But it is not ours to bear. It is not ours to carry, or to hold, or to make sure that our perpetrators understand.
What's meant to be is love. It is the love you will feel when you release the guilt.
When you stop giving it a name, a fucking place to stay within your mainframe.
You are your temple, your sanctuary, your safe place.
Do not listen when it speaks because it does not understand your space.
The space in which you embody all love and transmute all pain.
"The place where you choose to hold yourself on the cloudiest days.
That is your place, and where guilt cannot stay."