Behind the curtain

We oftentimes hide our battles and/or scars because we associate them with shame. We somehow drifted away from the "tribe and village" mentality of needing and depending on others, and secluded ourselves onto a lonely island of falsehoods. We frequently see excessively overjoyed, and sometimes, boastful, depictions posted all over social media. It's rare to witness a raw, emotional, post or photo. I get it. It's scary to put all of yourself out there, all over the internet. These social media "stars" are popping up celebrating their true/authentic selves. Sharing their body positivity photos, be them over or under weight, embracing their identities, celebrating their sexuality, showing their physical scars, opening up about the skeletons and wickedness they've endured; but are they really affirmed and welcomed, or are we just blindly and emptily empowering these individuals because that's the "right thing to do"? Is the acceptance real? 

Maybe I'm just jaded. Maybe I've been beaten down one too many times to believe that sharing my own authentic self would be openly accepted, without judgements  without gossip, without side eye. Maybe I'm just scared to take that leap into true autonomous transparency. 

Either way, in the quiet nights I seldom get without my babies, those nights I sometimes yearn for, I feel empty. Being without my children is like being without my heart. In the chaotic moments of the days and nights when one proverbial shoe tends to drop after the other, when one child's request is met with the bellowing of the other and the arguments for my time and attention ensue, I want a moment of peace and quiet. Then I get it and I feel lost. Even when they're asleep, at least knowing they're in the bed in the other room, I'm at ease. But, without them under my roof, I aimlessly stalk the floors of this empty apartment. Cleaning is empty. Television is empty. A nice shower and a book are empty. All I'm left with are my thoughts... and those swirl around faster and more fierce than any tornado. 

Am I doing enough? Am I working too much? Are my screw ups too big? Is the damage I've done permanent? Will I ever find MY voice? Will I ever not give a flying fuck about what others perceive me to be? Will I always second guess myself? Will I ever shed this chameleon skin and stop trying to please those around me and just focus on myself? Will I, Can I, Am I? Could-a, should-a, would-a... 

Not tonight, I won't. But I am. Slowly but surely. Little by little. I'm peeking out from behind that heavy, dark curtain I've been hiding under for almost 40 years. I'm finding my way... I've been blazing my own path for a long time, and I'm almost ready to fully ride those flames.