Welcome to 2020 2.0!
No. I did not manage to get married.
No. I did not manage to move to Texas.
No. I did not manage to quit my job that I fucking hate.
Yes. I managed to get Covid-19, from my irresponsible parents.
Yes. I managed to be one of the 10% of women aged 20-30 who ended up suffering from Parosmia post-covid. It is plagueing my ability to eat or even smell myself.
Yes. I managed to avoid the dentist long enough again to need another tooth ripped out of my mouth, but this time it's in my smile.
Yes. I managed to fall down the stairs and break my ankle severely in three spots. I'm still learning to walk again.
Yes. My last family Christmas in Canada was ruined by my narcisst eldest sister over some fucking pancakes. But hey, at least she's exposed to the rest of the family for what she is now. Something I've had to deal with since I was a child.
Dear me sometime next year when I update this... please... for the love of god please... have better news.
I don't write poetry or write at all in general anymore but I'm leaving this below.
_________
The veil.
The veil came down.
Now everyone can see her through the eyes I wore as a child. The eyes worn out, rolled back in my head in disgust and irritation from the years and years of being told to "give her the benefit of the doubt", to "put myself in her shoes".
Her shoes? What about my shoes?
She forcefully strapped those shoes onto me as a child to dictate and manipulate me, and those meant to protect me.
"I raised you" she says, and I hear "I restricted you".
"I helped you" she argues, and I know she means "I managed you".
"I lead you" she brags, and I can only remember it being more like "I governed you".
But the veil came down before my tired eyes early on. As if one day I found a crack in the carefully crafted walls that she built with her blueprints of deceit, and my feet, no longer little, but still covered in velcro shoes, meant for the child that she decided needed discipline, kicked and kicked until I made a hole big enough for just me.
And I took those shoes off at the exit....
The shoes now worn by her little daughter. Hand-me-downs that will train her to be compliant and to fear questioning.
To fear making decisions. To fear the woman who showers her in false affirmations of support laced in restraint.
Lies disguised as love.
Attention disguised as Affection.
Gifts and trips that are nothing but bargaining chips.
I can only hope that her eyes grow tired and weary of the false reality, masterfully patterned around her.
I can only hope she finds the weak spots in the walls and bulldozes them down.
I can only hope that she rips that veil with the power she's given from those meant to protect her, the ones who can see clearly now and will do anything to give her the same sight.
The ones who will help her take off those shoes and leave them to never be worn again.
