The feeling that I’ve lost myself
That girl who felt
Powerful
Unstoppable
The most…
The most everything
Sometimes I catch a glimpse of her
Reflected in other women
Writing poetry
Speaking
Mothering with joy and confidence
Conquering things
Being silly
Running
She used to be me
Every time, I mourn her.
And I promise myself that
Tomorrow
Tomorrow I will know how to wake up as myself again
Tomorrow I will run
And write
And paint
And laugh
And find connection
And then tomorrow
I wake up tired
Every time
(Tired is what this is, right?
This fuzzy brained numbness?)
And also unsure
And also small
And also disconnected
Lonely
Worried about taking up too much space
(Since when do I worry about that?)
Unseen
(Is that what happens when you become to small?)
I spend the day trying to catch up on messes
All day
Every day
Always behind
So far behind
I don’t know what the finish line would even look like.
Usually just numb to missing that her that was me.
Too busy and harried
And tired
So tired.
Where is the me of her
and how do I find her?
