The Woman I Am Becoming

“You’re complicated.” 

He says again.The second time. Or the third?

I lower my eyes. My hands tighten around the cup of coffee. Luckily, it’s no longer hot enough to burn me. His words are doing a perfectly good job of that.

I fall.

Into myself.Into a deep pit with a beautiful sign above it: “Self-blame.”

I plunge into the darkness, surrounded by bare, cold walls – nothing to grab onto, nowhere to stop, no way out.

I’m doing everything wrong again.I promised myself I wouldn’t make things complicated.I’m trying, I really am, but once again, I can’t handle it. As always.

“Always. Always. Always…”The stone walls echo back at me.

Stop.

With an effort, I pull myself out of the spiral of thoughts.A deep breath.

The fall slows down.The walls stop blurring into one smooth, glossy surface. There are dents in them. Grooves. Cracks.

Maybe I could climb out after all?

We are humans.

Our bodies are made up of 30 trillion cells.Even the greatest minds of our time still don’t fully understand how our brains work.

We don’t fully know one another.We don’t even fully know ourselves.

Every second, we are getting to know ourselves. Piece by piece. Fragment by fragment.

A little more.A little deeper.Further.Inward.

And yes, damn it, we have the right to be complicated.

We have the right to feel sad or anxious about anything at all.We have the right to cry or scream.We have the right to lie on the floor and do absolutely nothing.We have the right to jump for joy until we hit the ceiling.We have the right to say, "That hurt me” and “You can’t treat me like that.”We have the right to be angry or gentle.We have the right to be complicated.To be ourselves.

And yes, we also have the right to do none of those things.

The fall has stopped.

All I have to do is look around, and there it is.

The way out.

Steps have been carved into the wall.Climbing them will be hard.But possible.

I just have to choose to climb.

My hands are covered in grey stone dust.

Did I carve these steps myself?

I raise my eyes.

“Yes, I’m complicated. Any problems with that?”