From a dear acquaintance, I have just received an email, long and embittered. In it, she details how she continues to be betrayed, how she continues to bear up, despite the abuse, heaped and heaped and heaped, how she continues to be the heroine of her story, replete with villains.
I want to say to her, don’t you see? Don’t you see that you are the director, the scriptwriter, the costume warden, the composer, don’t you hear? Those people are but phantoms, perhaps not even that until you give them a role to play, hand them a script, take them into the closet to pick out their clothes, play them music to direct their limbs. Don’t you see all of your power, flowing out out out to inflate this world of enemies?
You are loved beyond your wildest imagination, I want to say. You are safe, from everything.
Take a deep breath, I would say, if she could hear me. I will hold your hand.
Here’s a pin.
I just opened my email and there you are Auntie M with a lovely and loving response to a position we can all find ourselves in... forgetting our authorship of the story. So so nicely done, Ms Martha (oops Auntie M) I am going to share this on FB if you don't mind :-)
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