Her name was anger
and she arrived when I didn’t have time to take on anything else in my world.
She grew from a seed in the dark of night.
And didn’t stop until her thorns stretched their sharp edges into all the crevices of my being.
She lingered uninvited into my thoughts.
She altered how I carried myself, hollow and heavy.
She made me weak and powerful almost interchangeably.
She drew swords and shields and bitter tasting defenses.
When I saw insecurity in my reflection,
I saw her.
When I raised the ferocity in my voice,
I heard her.
When I clenched and shook and failed,
I felt her.
I carried her with me.
All of her madness. All of her ache.
I carried her with me.
A stranger seemingly vital to my survival.
I let her sting stitch my words.
I let her torture throb in my veins.
I let her misery torment my sleepless nights.
I let her heal my open wounds with steel.
She was my armor. My blade studded shelter.
If anyone was to be let in they had to succumb to her sharp interrogation first.
She grew stronger, heavier,
and fed like a savage off pain and anguish.
She was insatiable.
She became too loud. Too abundant. Too much.
I no longer recognized me,
only the vessel that was used to carry her.
I was drained by her weight.
I no longer wanted to be prodded by her thorns.
I missed my own voice.
I missed myself.
I asked how long she had to stay with me.
She whispered, “Dear girl, you have had it wrong the whole time. My real name is grief. And the choice is yours. Always has been.”
I woke up to what needed to be mourned.
I burned what needed to be let go of.
I felt. I listened. I forgave.
I treated my open wounds.
And my grief changed shape.
Her blades dulled.
She was quieter, smaller, lighter.
I still carried her.
And she still had the ferocity to bring me to my knees.
But I held the power.
I had the mercy to let her teach me while I was down.
And the grace and strength to rise again.
Katie’s essay and tangent collection about motherhood, life and imperfection, Happy Broken Crayons is available on Amazon now. Thank you for reading. You are the (queen) bees knees. Happy happy holidays and happy happy new year to you. In setting your hopes for 2018, please think about your word. I can’t wait to hear it. Xoxo
To read more blogs by Katie Moore click here.
Katie Yackley Moore is a freelance writer, real estate agent, yoga instructor and a momma of four navigating life and a separation and finding herself in the process. She adores coffee shops, laughing until it hurts and impromptu dance parties. Her work has appeared on Scary Mommy, Mamalode and HuffPost Parents. She has published a journal entitled “Dream a Bigger Dream” and the children’s books “You Are a Warrior” and “We are Family” and just finished her first novel. Catch up with her between tea breaks at The Naked Momma and on Facebook.
