Oppression takes so much from us. In looking through the obituaries of others who died this week, I saw that someone I went to high school with died recently as well. I was shocked. We were in the marching band together and as I read the words his fiance had written about him, I had this incredible sense of regret that I never spoke to him because he sounded amazing. And I never spoke to him because he was a thin boy and I was a fat girl and I presumed that he would hate me. And this is that really insidious - sometimes hidden - part of oppression. The opportunities for closeness, for vulnerability that feel inaccessible, the isolation and suspicion that comes with it. I was jealous of what she wrote because she clearly loved him so much and they shared something so intimate and earnest and I dont know how to love like that because I had to learn to love in the midst of my entire sense of self being torn apart. My love looks different; it is fierce and not always tender, it is cautious and self-preserving, it is often measured, never immersive, it is one foot out the door always, and I am trying to see that as a point of strength. But its difficult as I look back and see all the beautiful relationships I sabotaged in the name of protecting myself.
Posted on: Wed, 31 Dec 2014 21:16:14 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015