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  • Writer's pictureMegan Swanson

Throw Away - Prequel to Sorry, Thank you, I love you

Updated: Nov 13, 2021

I threw my dad’s stuff away yesterday. The sum of his life in a little box. Stuff not one other person in this world wanted or could bear to even look at. I have looked through it all. More than once. Seen all of the letters I sent to him. Broken open to see they meant something. His mail. So many different addresses around the country. His glasses. A few work badges. A prescription for acne medication. One that I have taken, for sure. Many pens and notepads and lists. We both grasp at certainty and order with our frenzy of notes and lists. After we’ve completed our lists, then, we imagine, we will be able to settle into the goodness of being.

Hold my breath. I see you now. I feel how you probably couldn’t breathe well. I feel your pain and loneliness. I know the world you created to contain your [perceived] weaknesses. To cover over your shame. I know that your light is in hiding and has been as long as I’ve known you. And all of the times you won by “ripping people’s lips off”, rising to dominate, working harder and persisting with great determination; you too were being beaten. The splits within ever-deepening and the stench of burning skin lingering as your inner child was repeatedly branded “unworthy” and “not enough.” And you looked the other way. Drove hard to create your own success and family and never looked back. But it came with you. Played out in the areas of life without defined rules and handbooks. Manifested as warped desires and abuse of power. All from a longing to to seen, heard, appreciated and loved. For the full circle of acceptance that begins and ends within. So why, despite having some notion of understanding, did I throw these things away? Because I continue to feel your presence as flashes of fear in my dreams and in meditation. No thought necessary. Just blindsiding fear, feeling exposed and paralyzed. Your energetic presence is not welcome in my space. I will send you wishes of softness and love on my terms. Not allowing more than I am ready for at any given moment. My choice. Grown me. Growing consciousness, me. I am you. So you already exist in me, as me. I am learning to reconcile our self-defeating, habitual tendencies. I don’t need a separate “you” to contend with. I am grateful for the fire you have given me. The persistence you exemplified in wrestling your challenges. The times you knocked us all back, so I could see that it isn’t always about moving forward anyway. Sent from my iPhone (felt appropriate to keep this in here... )

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Part I to: I am sorry, thank you, I love you


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