I’m a place in my life that I never thought I would be. I’m distant. Distant from the family that raised me. Distant from my mother. Distant from my siblings. Distant from the hurt. The crazy part about it is that I use to thrive from being so close to those things. My family was dysfunctional. My mother always wanted the best for all her children even though she was illiterate.

She always wanted us to read and educate ourselves to be better than her and her sister and two brothers. I felt as if I lived through and with so much pain in my heart that it helped mature me. Then again it made me appreciate the love. I grew up from the bottom.

I grew up hating the rain that played its own rhythm of music beating on the tin roof of my home. I hated how the rain would drip on my head as if every drop was eager to wet my face. I used to cry myself to sleep every night after praying. I would mute my cries the best I could by holding my pillow as tight as I cover over my face. It was never my intention to smother myself, but some nights my sleep would not take me away from my reality fast enough.

I mastered silent cries and feeling alone even when I shared a bed with my younger sister. These days I appreciate the distant. Distance has brought me peace. The distance has given me the chance to reflect and value my growth on a deeper and intense level. I’m more accepting and thankful for how far I have come and how far that I still must go in this lifetime. 

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  1. Thank you so much! I think that it is refreshing to know that I am not alone.