Who are you?

“Who are you?” That voice in my head sharp as a blade is punishing me again. The air is cool, the mood is eerie as I lay in the dirt, leaves, and debris. Feeling so small, weak and insignificant surrounded by all the mighty trees. Tiffany’s song - I think that we’re alone now plays on repeat in my mind. We are alone now, me and my thoughts and that’s the scariest place to be sometimes.

My body feels broken, I can feel it but I can’t look yet. I will just lay here awhile. How’d we get here? I know the answer and yet somehow I don’t. Here comes the anger, the answer to the question that I now regret asking. I don’t want to know. No stop! I scream inside my head as the pictures of every wrong turn in my life start to consume me. My body is shaking now. Silent tears start falling.

I see a little girl, I know it’s me but I don’t recognize her. Her eyes are full of wonder and excitement for life that I haven’t felt in many years. She’s doing cartwheels, smelling flowers, riding her bike full speed, singing songs to the sky in hopes that the souls longer with us will hear and be proud. So bright and wonderful. I watch for a minute then recede to black. I know this is the age when it starts to happen. They bind her spirit and cut her off from who she is supposed to be. It’s a slow process. Small pieces at a time. You’re too loud, you talk too much, you don’t know what you’re talking about, you’re weird, you’re being dramatic, and you ask too many questions. Everything I am is wrong except the quiet part that likes to read and doesn’t cause problems.

I suddenly remember where I am and get pulled from my memories. I slowly sit up wincing from the stinging, throbbing pains coming from my body. For a moment I feel like I may vomit, I lean up against a tree to my right and let it support me. “Who are you?“, again the voice spits at me. A picture floods my vision, now the girl walking up to school. A new hope! Backpack on, excitement in her every step. Her bright blue eyes are sparkling, gleaming, welling up? What’s happening? They are streaming tears now as she realizes kids can be cruel for no reason other than they can be. “This is your fault," says the voice bitterly. “This is your fault.”

I feel a breeze on my skin. I grab each side of my cardigan and wrap it around myself. “Who are you?” escapes through grits teeth. Now the girl is sitting in church, listening to the stories and quietly panic-hiding parts of her that don’t align. Sending them to the back corner of her mind. Boxed, taped, stuffed in a trunk and dead-bolted so no one will find out she’s not worthy. At least there are kids to play with, songs to sing and everyone has to be nice to you at church. The light dims ever slightly in her eyes and she stiffens.

I’m startled by a rustle to the left and I realize a chipmunk has run up the tree beside me. My arm catches my eye and I realize bruising has started to form. I retreat to my mind and there she is again. She is growing up- looking less like a child. You can see the toll life is taking already. I can feel the loneliness just as real in this moment. She is surrounded by people but no one can see her. “Who are you?” the voice cries at me now. I want to yell at her that you don’t have to be what they want you to be. Your body is your own and they have no right to it but it’s too late for that now.

I take in my surroundings, the woods are so peaceful, unlike my inner thoughts. Suddenly I feel as if I’m being watched and in truth I am. I spot dark eyes peering down from the branches above. It’s so beautiful - white and majestic. This is the first time I have ever seen an owl in real life and it seems to be as interested in me as I am in it. Watching me. Listening. “Who are you?!” the voice screams at me and takes me to the place in time when the girl is now “officially” a woman and thinks she is in love. She will do anything to prove it and so she loses herself a little more. He will beat her down emotionally until she believes no one loves her and that she is so stupid and useless that no one will ever want her. He will abuse her and she will take it. She is strong but she doesn’t see it.

I need to get up. I try to stand the tree still supporting me. I straighten my dress and breathe deeply. I look up to see the owl spread its wings and push off from the branch. Such beauty. “Who are you?!” the voice in pure anguish now. The young woman is now a mom. She has dreamed of this day. She has wanted this life. She promises the beautiful baby to be there always and guide her through this world. She does her best every day but motherhood is not without judgment and they will make her feel inadequate in the choices she makes. Make sure everything gets done and taken care of. Work, parent, keep the house clean and if there is any time left then you can relax but not for too long- don’t be lazy.

I take a step and another. I walk towards the path, each step brings pain but I need to get out of there. “Who are you?” the voice is concerned. The young woman has aged a little. Now there are two children and they are getting older too quickly. She keeps her promise to her kids and slowly creates boundaries where there were none. Helping them navigate this world with grace. Working on unpacking the parts of herself they said were not acceptable and her kids are teaching her that she is important and loved. Her heart goes fuller and fuller with each day.

I continue to walk and the path opens up. I can feel the sun on my face now and I’m thankful for its warmth. I’m going home now. “Who are you?” The voice asks with new hope. One last scene flashes through my mind. The woman is wise and confident. She is authentic and different. She no longer bends to please but stands tall and contributes. She is wonderful and I am in awe. She is all that she can be and all that she wants to be. She is free.

“Who are you?” the voice says with tears of joy and wonder. I am me.