Enduring

From where enters your strength, your will to live? It reminded of how battered and bruised I have been. A memory of black clouds coming down onto me haunts my head and I had hoped that I had healed that trauma, but they asked me: where does that strength come from? There were no good answers to that question. Perhaps it was this ancestral DNA or my mother’s mitochondrial DNA that let me live though the struggle. How ungrateful I must seem, to have that survivor’s will and to hate the act of having to survive. She must look at me with disdain or maybe with pity at knowing that her scars are inscribed into my genetic makeup too.

Why have you stayed? I am asked this question, not in so many words. Sadly, no responses escape because I hold the gates tightly shut for fear of being seen as the fool. Who could have thought that this would be the woman striving to bear the fruits of my labor—so hindered by a simple soul?

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7 thoughts on “Enduring

      1. It was just me processing emotions. You know how in life there are experiences that traumatize us and how sometimes we conduct ourselves in ways that aren’t healthy for us while recognizing the mistakes we make. I think it happens a lot in our daily lives. We act in self-destructive ways (nothing extreme here, don’t worry!) and I think it’s because we are used to doing too much for others and not enough for us. For example, some of us don’t cut out unhealthy people from our lives because we want to be there for others even though it may not be what we need.

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