Echoes of My Former Selves

I haven’t always been a good person, a truth that’s taken me years to confront.

I hate to admit that but it’s true. When I think back on all of my younger selves, all the versions of me that I have been before, I see hurt in their eyes, anger at the world and at themselves. I’m sorry that they didn’t know what to do with that hurt, that anger. I’m sorry that no one came to ask why, instead of saying to stop it, to shove it down and put on a smile for show.

For so long, I was told my feelings were wrong, leading me to a place where distinguishing my true emotions became a confusing struggle.

I often hit an internal self-destruct button, sabotaging moments of potential happiness, driven by a deep-seated distrust in both the world and myself. When things were going well, or when I had the sense that there was good coming around the corner, I pushed the button.  

I became, at times, a comfort-seeking monster, looking only for who could hold me, who could support me, who could help me forget the pain and the anger for just a little while. Some people’s drug of choice comes with a needle. Mine came in the form of attention, co-dependence, and times, inflicting emotional pain. 

You show me your pain and I’ll show you mine. We’ll distract each other with shadows, lies, and laughter, gossip and judgments for anyone who isn’t as cool, clever, or pretty as we claimed to be. But we’ll never be our real selves either. We’ll never let down our guard, become transparent or vulnerable. We’ll be cruel to others on the outside, and to ourselves on the inside, most of all. 

I’ve wielded words like weapons, the same words that once cut me deep.

I've felt the sharp sting of being cheated on, learning the hard way about trust and its fragility, only to become tangled in my own messy game of betrayal.

I've told lies, sometimes weaving stories that weren't true, and then found myself on the receiving end of lies, struggling with the bitter taste of deception.

I've been angry, sometimes losing control in a burst of fury, and I've also felt the impact of others' anger, caught in the crossfire of uncontrolled emotions.

I've sought others as stepping stones for my desires — for companionship, intimacy, or power — yet found myself tread upon with the same callous intent, a cycle of utilitarian relationships devoid of genuine connection.

I've inflicted wounds of the heart and soul, carelessly or in anger, only to bear the scars of similar inflictions, a shared tapestry of pain and regret.

I’ve been a bad person sometimes, and I hate to admit it… but so have you. 

Now, as I look back at all the versions of me, I see the thread of longing for love and acceptance weaving through each one.

I want to be the one who loves them all. It’s what they needed. It’s what they wanted. The power of yes, you are still worthy of love. The power of acceptance, without limits or bounds. The knowledge that yes, even you, are welcome here.

How can we love ourselves more, now in hindsight? How can we welcome in those ghosts of the past? Break your heart open and pick up the pieces. Everyone is there, just waiting to be held.

Everyone is there, it’s true and it’s love.