Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2017
reflection
[ri-flek-shuh n]

1. i wasn't living for myself. i was living to get through the motions of each day and to make others happy. i've been a role model for others ever since shawna was born when i was in the first grade. the weight on my shoulders, i wanted to be good enough. **** it, i just wanted to be something worth while. i feared not amounting to anything so much that i forgot what it meant to live for myself. it turns out i was suffocating myself trying to live up to these unrealistic expectations i set for myself. it was as if i was trapped in a box that had been tapped shut and i was struggling to find air to breathe. i have promised myself to never put myself back in that position. i am meant for so much more. and i deserve to put myself first. the life i was living wasn't for me. and so i took myself down a different path.

2. though i've never put a blade to my skin or swallowed a large amount of pills, i harmed myself and i harmed others, especially those that love and care for me. i'm not sure when things got this bad, but once i realized the destructive person i became, i didn't want to be here anymore. there were no excuses for the poor decisions i was making but yet i couldn't stop. i would look in the mirror and not recognize the girl in the mirror, a girl causing unbelievable destruction to herself and to others. i couldn't feel bad for myself because this was all in my hands. i guess i just wanted to feel something. i had forgotten what it was like to feel and self-destruction was easy to access, a game played between me and myself and no one else. you get addicted to the feeling of watching things crash down before your eyes. i was out of control but the only person that could help me was myself.

3. if i were able to weigh my grief, i'm convinced the scale would break. this wasn't the first time i crossed paths with death and it turned everything in my life gray. cancer took my step-father away when i was 7th grade, my mother without a spouse and my two little sisters without a father. shawna was in kindergarten and candice was in pre-school, too young to go to the services. cheyenne fought with me over wearing white. i was thirteen and didn't know what proper funeral attire was. now they live life trying to remember a father they never knew. i spent much of my adolescent life regretting the words i said and wishing i would've said more. it was selfish of me but when my grandfather passed in march, i felt i was being punished. i couldn't bear the pain i was feeling and it wouldn't go away, so i had to find a scapegoat as an attempt to make myself feel better. i'll be honest, it didn't help, i only pretended it did so i wouldn't fall into a hole of spiraling depression. i still did anyway. i looked at my friends and people who knew who lost ones they loved and wondered how they hell they got over it. i didn't know what to do to lessen my pain. it was so sharp and intense, i carried it with me everywhere i went. my therapist walked me through the stages of grief and i felt like i was reliving the moment he took his last breath. silence. fighting back tears. pacing back and forth.

once i realized grief isn't something we have to get over and instead is something we learn to live with, i felt less crazy.

4. i no longer knew who i was. a friend told me that it wasn't about figuring out who i was again but rather who i wanted to be after this. i struggled and fell to rock bottom over and over again, even after feeling as if i was on the top of the world again. after so many dark hours and low points, i flourished into a girl i wanted to be, a girl i wanted to love, but most importantly, a girl i was proud of. the things we go through in life, they change us, completely and utterly. and we must decide what we do about this change--do we lose time by trying to deny we're no longer who we once were or do we embrace it? i spent a lot of time denying this new person i was becoming. i missed the old me. i wanted her back. but she was never coming back. i took a new form. and i stopped looking back and wondering why. i was no longer meant for the things i once pursued. my own kind of metamorphosis.
Some sort of reflection on the past year.
Sierra Scanlan
Written by
Sierra Scanlan  Rock Island
(Rock Island)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems