Who You Really Are
She’s the one that called me a flower,
When all I saw was thorns.
She’s the one that saw my beauty,
When all I saw was scars.
She’s the one that saw me,
shining like a star,
When all I saw was shadows,
Hopes and dreams afar.
She’s the one that saw me as,
Innocent and tender.
Id gaze into a mirror,
Id try to see it too,
Who came staring back at me,
Was someone I never knew...
I don’t know why the journey has taken so long,
But look at me now,
I’m singing my song,
With a heart of understanding,
With a heart that beats so strong,
I have spread my wings,
And I’ve moved on.
You saw me crying,
afraid and unsure,
Knowing what I needed was,
Your arms wrapped tightly around me,
Where I felt safe and secure.
Angel wings unfurled,
Tears have been dried,
Sadness is forgotten,
And hope is shining bright.
The pain became the stepping stones,
Which led me to the truth.
You taught me that,
There is beauty in the ashes,
You opened my eyes to see,
The beauty in me.
Who I am today would be nothing you see,
Without a mother like you,
Who loved me so unconditionally,
You are a loving,
guardian angel,
my protector,
savior,
And my confidant,
Whom I hold near to my heart.
You are a superhero teaching the world,
One person at a time,
How to see the beauty in the ashes,
And the beauty within ourselves.
This is...
Who you really are.
I love you, Mom
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Hickey-flower
Hey there, I'm Heather. I am, by no means a "born writer", I have tried for many years off and on to do writings but I always seemed to be around people that tore me down or made me feel like a crappy writer. My confidence has always been extremely low about my writing. Recently, I've been feeling a rumbling in my heart to express myself more through writing, throw caution to the wind and let my heart dance across the page... I was diagnosed with quite a few different conditions, to name a few, my good friend Anxiety, Anxiety decided to bring along her friend Panic Attacks (wasn't to happy about that), I also have a stalker that's been following me around my whole life, his name is PTSD, I also have a friend that sits just out of view but I know she's always there, her name is Dysthymia. My last friend I call Hashi's, thats short for Hashimoto's Thyroiditis, that's where my own body thinks that my Thyroid is an intruder and it does everything in its power to kill my thyroid (talk about an inner conflict). My life is worth living because I am a mom, I fight hard against the things that try to bring me down for him, I write because I know it helps me reduce the anxiety and depression that I struggle with so I can be more present for him, I also write because I know narrative therapy is proven to work and help heal traumas in a non-invasive way. Removing myself from my trauma and putting it into story form helps me process things I've been through, helps me feel compassion and empathy for myself (when usually I am my own worst critic, and extremely negative towards myself). It is a constant battle to try and tune out the negative self talk, and I know many people struggle with this, so I hope whoever reads this will feel a bit more love, kindness, and empathy for themselves. -With outstretched wings, use watchful eyes, Protect the unprotected, love the unloved, and breathe life into the lifeless- Love, Heather
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