Wolverine is cool but…

I am way cooler.

I’ve had so much time to think this past year and man have I grown up. I hit the rock bottom equivalent of an addict, although I’ve never had a substance abuse problem, more of an emotional abuse problem. As in, I take a lot. I always felt that if I set a boundary I would risk losing the person. It was something I picked up in childhood, fear of abandonment, fear of loss.

I was always the one adjusting the goal post to accommodate shitty behavior and lack of respect. I was always making excuses, you know, they didn’t know any better, they just needed someone to stick it out…I would be strong enough, show them unconditional love and by unconditional apparently I meant I could take it but I wasn’t allowed to dish it out.

I suppose a majority of that was giving what I was so desperate to receive , not even understanding that the people around me weren’t healthy, they weren’t capable of being what I needed them to be. So you learn odd ways of self governing, ways of coping, skills that other people simply don’t have. And you become a master of adaptation almost always to your detriment.

I learned to adapt in such chaos that I wasn’t sure how to be when the waters were calm.

(I just feel like today I need to peel the layers off)

Most six year olds never have to deal with their own mortality. The concept would be totally lost, unless your reality included life or death. Mine did. It was really, really hard. When I look back at how much has been taken from me, from before I had a chance or a choice to…

Ha!

A chance to do what?

Who knows what would have become of a me that grew up without violence, without fear, with choice…I lost that girl long ago. But at times I grieve her. She deserved better from this life.

The growing, the evolution of a soul it’s happening now…I’m writing it live. I’m writing it now.

So I thought Wolverine used to be my favorite, before I understood the darker side of comics and the righteousness of most villains and I just wanted a superpower of my own. And it didn’t occur to me until I sat to write this post that my superpower is by far the most powerful of them all.

I can regenerate my soul.

I can experience trauma after trauma, pain after pain, wound after wound and every single time somehow, in someway I am still full of love.

My soul, this thing I hold so crisp, so vivid is infinite in it’s ability to want healing, to want peace,  to want love, to want to remain vulnerable in the cruelest of environments, in the barren, desolate, wasteland of life experiences no one being should ever have to endure.

If that isn’t a god damn super power I don’t know what is.

Every beat, every skip, every stop and start of my heart I still love like I’ve never been hurt.

I don’t guard for what hasn’t come even though it’s inevitable in this cold, cruel world.

I believe.

I believe in me.

I believe I leave people better…

I believe people think of me in the strangest time at the oddest hours and there’s a reason each and every time.

ALL wounds are fresh no matter how much time has passed. It just takes the right trigger.

I am evolving.

I am accepting.

I am love…

and it’s really fucking cool.

Chin up buttercup, we’ve got a lot of work to do.

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