I choose differently now.

What is happening?
A heavy feeling in my stomach.
Huge pressure.
I feel it in my throat.
My body hurts.
I zoom in…..

This is what I see:
I can not do this.
It’s never gonna work out.
How to have confidence?
Lean backwards?
What nonsense.

It can’t be easy.
Hard work,
that’s how it should be,
towards that end goal.
It won’t finish itself.
I have to work harder.
Push through.
Hope it was enough.

I realize that this isn’t selflove.
To go to the edge of my limits,
to put the pressure so high.
This is how I’ve always learned
and done.
And even then it was
never good enough for me.

I see threads of guilt, shame, and judgment.
I see the inner slave driver.
Beliefs to work even harder
to prove myself.
Also, very helpful:
I’m not doing well enough.
I should know better.
I don’t work hard enough.

Somehow, I’ve always felt that it could work differently.
That letting things unfold is possible,
that it is possible to relax,
and that I can choose this.

I recognize my inner slave driver,
and that’s enough for now to stop the connection.
I see my young adult in me
working hard.
She is tired.

She feels guilty,
for being tired.
She has to go
get results.

I see it now from the perspective
of my adult self.
I listen to my young adult.
She can say anything.
I ask her what she needs.
She shows me a huge red stop button.
Pause…rest….charge…
I let her push the button.
She breathes a sigh of relief,
stretches out on a lawn, and enjoys.

A little girl comes by. She’s scared.
She doesn’t want to change.
She can’t rely on something she can’t see.
Lean back and then?
Fall?
Way too scary!
Who’s going to catch her?
Doing her best,
she stays upright.
This is how she is seen.
She gets love and compliments.

I take her on my lap.
She’s confused.
She is scared and crying.
She doesn’t feel safe anymore.
Her body feels cramped.

I’m holding her
giving her love,
safety
and the right to exist.

She relaxes.
She is also tired.
Doing her best
to be seen,
so she’s not alone,
so she can be safe.

I ask her what she needs.
She would like a nice pink bed
to sleep safely.

As the adult, I breathe.
I feel calm.
Wow…
Special,
these parts in me
the protection they gave me
in this situation.

But protection is no longer necessary.
I, the adult, takes responsibility.
In all the love for me, I choose
otherwise.