Shattering Your Dream

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Taking the chance to love something can be a frightening thing.... I sat on the grassy hill next to our house, the glass bottle resting in my hands. I stared intently, fascinated by the way the sun caught its shimmer and made the color look like liquid dreams. There was something inside the bottle that looked like a little black bead. It moved around as I rolled the bottle back and forth between my hands. The air smelled of summer drawing to an end. I admired the color of the nail polish; it was so pretty to me. Tears streaked down my cheeks as I decided what I would do.

When I was a little girl, my environment was volatile. By age 12 I had been through emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, verbal abuse... abuse. I was given things that were later taken away with little explanation. I existed in an emotional terrain that was so rocky that the slightest misstep could result in extreme consequences. While my secret life (I call it that because my friends had no clue what was really going on in my life at that time) was scary and unusual, I was, in ways, a typical preteen girl. I liked cute boys (oh, Isreal Evans, how I adored you in sixth grade!), trying on clothes and shimmering pink nail polish....

I sat on the grassy hill next to our house, the glass bottle resting in my hands. I stared intently, fascinated by the way the sun caught its shimmer and made the color look like liquid dreams. There was something inside the bottle that looked like a little black bead. It moved around as I rolled the bottle back and forth between my hands. The air smelled of summer drawing to an end. I admired the color of the nail polish; it was so pretty to me. Tears streaked down my cheeks as I decided what I would do. With one final glance of longing, I hurled the bottle at the earth beneath me, sad to see that it did not shatter. I picked the bottle up and tried again. And again. Until, finally, the glass cracked, spilling its luminous contents onto the grass. The earth drew the liquid in, as if co-conspiring with me to keep my secrets silent. The tears came faster, giving way to body-wrenching sobs. I knelt on the lush green grass, grieving this nail polish that I loved so much. Wishing someone would repair the glass and refill it with that beautiful pink color.... and give it back to me. When the tears ran dry and the sobbing eased, I smoothed out my clothes and started the walk back to my house. It was over. This thing that I loved was gone. I mourned the loss of it, but was comforted that I took it from myself.

That was why I broke what I loved; if I shattered it, no one else could take it away from me. I took it from myself.

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Taking the chance to love something can be a very frightening thing. It opens you to vulnerability and sometimes we meet vulnerability with attempts of self-protection. Which might be great in some situations, but not when what you really do is destroy what could bring you great joy. Think it over and if there's something helpful or healing that you can take from this, please do so with my gratitude.

2-Minute Takeaway (Journal Prompts): Is there something in my life that I shatter on purpose? What does the little girl inside me need in order to embrace the vulnerability of nurturing my dream?

 

Love,

 

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