Wrote this in the wake of a surprisingly spiritual experience repairing a broken washing machine with a dear friend of mine.
Everything about me, in terms of the external façade, was constructed in the image of my father’s greatest hopes for me.
Built upon a foundation of his fears of the pain that may befall me at the hands of society, he wanted me to be safe.
His version of safety meant that I built a life for myself based upon the desires of someone who didn’t have an awareness of where those desires were rooted. Built a life for myself within this partially constructed scaffolding that was meant to prevent the deepest pain but instead perpetuated it. Built a life for myself based upon the concept of a hierarchy of ways of existing, but people cannot and should not be ranked in terms of their value to a society that does not value them. Built a life for myself that did not incorporate a single corporeal building material.
And now that he is gone, I am able to let the walls of the parts of that life that didn’t serve me crumble away to expose the guiding force for putting the pieces together, back into a picture of wholeness that is not constantly yearning to resemble impossible expectations.