The Anniversary Gift: What I Learned a Year After My Mother’s Death
A numbness, a void, had grown over my pain, burying me deep underneath. But slowly, the silk began to loosen, and someone different emerged from the cocoon. Before my mother died, I was a scared person, a worried person. I worried about what people thought of me; I was afraid to make a mistake, to be less than perfect. I felt responsible for everyone and everything and spent an inordinate amount of energy trying to fix broken people, fucked-up situations, to make myself indispensable. My entire self-worth was tied up in this belief. In that deep void, however, I discovered that the person I’d been neglecting all these years was me.
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