Independence: Or why hot dogs don't matter

Independence: Or why hot dogs don't matter

Independence means happiness and hotdogs and fireworks.

Not to me, it doesn’t.

Independence requires freedom. And I am not free, my love.

I am angry. I am a prisoner of my anger. I have done so much work on myself but you know, the work keeps expanding.

I was raised to believe my safety rested in my ability to conform to other people’s expectations. And in my capacity always to make them feel they were more important than me.

I am angry I believed that.

I am angry I gave myself up to an institution that didn’t make me feel safe.

I am angry when I see what happens to my children when the very people they should be able to trust tell them to conform and make them feel like they don’t matter. That their safety depends on their obedience.

My heart howls with pain and sorrow. My head explodes with anger. I can’t see for the blinding white light of rage shooting out of my skull.

Safety is a right. It does not need to depend on anything.

I recently discovered that I did not even know how to have a normal, healthy conversation with someone I love.

All I know is how to defend myself.

But no one’s attacking me now. Why am I still defensive?

I am a prisoner of that rage, my love. I know I have to work through it and not let it rule me.

It’s a lot harder than it sounds.

I am grateful for so many things. For the love I receive. For feeling safe as I am. For your patience as I work through so… much… shit. For the strength I possess despite being exhausted all the time. For beauty, sunlight and kindness.

I welcome the work I have to do to rid myself of this anger, to free myself of this prison, so that one day, my love, I can celebrate my own independence. 

It will taste so good no fireworks will be necessary.