“they’re telling me it’s time”

by epi

to grow up. that’s what that means. they’re telling me it’s time to grow up but that’s all they’re telling me. not telling me how, or what it feels like or what it looks like. not telling me anything other than “just do it.”

so, today i chose a pair of shoes because they seemed like the more grown up option. neutral brown. i put the bright purple ones back. i’m known for color. does growing up mean losing that part of me? does growing up mean letting go of who i am, exchanging identities… purple for brown?

i can’t grow up. i need to pray right now. i need to give every single part of me to God and all that would take is prayer but… there’s shame on my lips, and i fear putting God next to that shame. i fear saying his name and pleading “help?” knowing that i will reject that help when it comes. i believe they call this a crossroads?

i’m leaving cette ville/esta ciudad in a week and a half. goodbye tulsa. i don’t want to leave you and i don’t want to stay. i love you, and… you’ve taken so much from me.

yesterday (or was it friday), i walked past the place where i was raped and i thought i’d lose my mind. i’m ashamed that i was raped by the way. i’m ashamed that being raped is such a private/shameful thing. and i know it was 2 years ago. and i was over it. until i walked by that place and i went to scoff at it, but i couldn’t. i realized, i’m leaving parts of me here. giant tiny pretty ugly irreplaceable parts of me here. afraid to lose them, i don’t want to say goodbye to my anchors, i need to let go.

and grow up. right? they’re telling me it’s time to grow up, and growing up has no certain look or feel (i’ve decided since they’re not telling me anything different), and some of it’s painful and some of it’s triumphant, but either way, i’ll use it as my muse. i want to write some day (that’s what growing up really looks like–trusting God and myself enough to do what i really want to do), and life has so much fodder, so why not?

God… Abba, can you count this as my prayer? can you read between my lines and hear what i’m really saying? You are beautiful & I’m… well, I’m sorry.

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