Fear and growth in The First Life

I’ve been back and forth.
Waves crashing down on me and I struggle for air.
Emotional tides running high and bringing with them some uncontrollable storms.
The sun is so bright though.
Breaks from the undertow bring warmth and lightness.
I’m puking up saltwater and still more than thankful.
Feet bleeding from cuts on rocks.
I try to float but right now nothing is easy.
It’s all worth it though.
I’m watching the sun rise on my right,
Saying goodbye to yesterday on my left.
I count hours until my next escape.
Blue eyes, or my new green lawn.
Stomach hollow because I want to shrink again.
Somehow even at my most confident I still try to fix myself.
I like the way his hands feel running down my ribcage and to my hip bones.
I want them to be closer together.
Always torn between feeling strong and feeling delicate because I haven’t figured out how to be both.

I have been horribly insecure.
But I’ve also been so sure of myself.
Fear is a bitch.
It’s driving every weakness in me.
Every irrationality.
Whispering that things aren’t as they seem.
It makes me feel sick and I wish I could go back to not caring about those kinds of things.
I’ve just learned all too well about losing things I like.
About things that hide under the sheets and how they pull the perfect string to untie everything.

I just have to remind myself of what I’ve gained.
Of the life I live when I am alone.
One that now is surrounded by walls that are mine.
That I am strong and capable and everything I have is my own.
That I made this happen.
I built this life and that cannot be taken away