Sometimes he shows up unexpectedly. Usually in the form of an unwelcome reference in an unwelcome conversation.
I had to live with him for years. He clung to me always, virtually inseparable. It wasn’t a particularly good relationship, either. Contentious, at times even emotionally abusive. I often didn’t live up to his expectations and I’d be relentlessly reminded each time I failed to do so.
But now he’s dead.
And I don’t miss him.
They never published an obituary in the newspaper for the person I used to be. The tormentor, the self-abuser, the one who did all he could to keep me exactly where I didn’t want to be.
It was a long, often painful passing, a slow transition from one life of familiar limitation and lack Continue reading “You Don’t Owe Yourself An Apology For Being You”
