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It is liberating and overwhelming

(to the point of
hot
tears)

to know how long I have been letting people drag my body through hot coals

while denying their abuse only because

letting them mistreat me
was only a way to

mistreat
my
    self

But as I have stopped hurting myself, I have become aware that
while I dare anyone to try to hurt me— I say this with a fire glint in my eye--
that I have been opening myself to the worst of people.

I am seeing myself in a better light—

I am powerful
I am beautiful
I am sacred
I am deserving
I am independent
And I don’t need people who I never really needed in the first place.

I’ve gone nineteen years sacrificing myself and it cannot go on. I will not let it go on. My consciousness is shifting, my inner self is awakening and stretching its muscles.

Vomiting up this cancerous, petulant, bone-blackening self loathing, cutting out this metastasizing inability to love myself, is painful.

It is the worst sort of agony
{and my body can take a lot of hell}

but when have I ever shied from pain?