The Medicine Said: Apologize to Yourself

I’ve been journaling since I was seven.

Today, I asked myself why I write.

The answer appeared on a forgotten page from an old journal.

I write because I want to remember.

11.05.2023

My emotions are mixed but maybe what makes it confusing is that it’s all so clear.

Plant medicine showed me the reality I had been avoiding.

My own darkness appeared on the road, widening and deepening before me; I travelled through memories, drifting between sadness and joy, not accepting but holding onto my anger.

My sister’s addiction that I didn’t allow myself to realise how deep the ruins it left were.

I kept trying to appear as if I was strong.

In truth, my inner world was shattered, broken, begging for a word.

The weight of how deeply I value my mother.

My anger toward my father.

My cousin, the most precious one to me in this world; the love and tolerance I gave him, the arrogance that he grew.

The look of judgment on my closest friend’s eyes, only to face my mirror.

The roles I played, not only to please others but to meet my own expectations too.

The pain I never dared to touch, the screams I never shouted, the way I tried to understand others while never trying to understand myself.

The pain of the past that I never truly accepted, always ignored.

Those years of my illness, that version of me I kept running from.

I feared going back, but the more I ran, the less it felt like healing, more like a rupture crushing my soul.

The fears and wounds it left, the love I never gave to myself, to that little girl within.

The rebellions I swallowed against the biggest injustice, living as if I’m not the only one who has been through it all.

When in fact, yes, I am.

The same recurring sentences between breaths:

I’m exhausted.

I’m human.

I’m human too.

A crying storm broke out among all those memories, I’ve grown too tired to carry further.

Please stop.

But it didn’t.

I didn’t deserve this.

I’m so tired.

I’m human too.

My small, wounded fragments, just waiting to be felt, to be accepted; if one lives inside anger, mourning, and tears for too long, they will only devour.

I realised, I’m tired of being good.

I’ve been erasing myself so that others won’t get upset, so that their expectations are met.

I’m not tired of being good.

I’m tired of trying to be good.

My inner voice is louder now, I just have to listen.

To stay connected instead of doing what I’ve always done out of habit.

I will not let the darkness wrap itself around my spring.

I will not lose my joy for life, my passion, my compassion coming from within.

My self love will bring me back to my light rising from my essence.

Medicine whispered: Apologize to yourself.

For all the times I despised myself.

For how I oppressed, criticised, and judged.

For how I imprisoned myself in my own life.

I now choose to put my faith in accepting every version of myself that has ever existed.

I promise to remember that they are all part of me, as close as my own breath.

I am strong not despite but because of what I have lived through.

I apologise to myself, for everything,

For getting lost in forgetting who I truly was.

I’ve opened a 20% discount on paid subscriptions until the end of this month as a small way of offering my gratitude and saying thank you. 🤍

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