Stepmom and dad

This one might be a little difficult to write.

Being a mother has taught me many things, and I understand that you were right. I should have listened, and I shouldn’t have been so quick to pick a fight.

I was just a wild flower with a mind filled with spite.

In the past few years anxiety and depression had me living in the dark,

But for some reason the good lord has shown me the light 💡

And I know righting my wrongs won’t happen over night, but as I sit here and indite, I can’t help but thinking ‘just rewrite, rewrite, rewrite’ and another crumpled piece of paper goes in the trash because honestly the thought of abandonment and feeling unwanted has my mind affright.

Being able to speak on my feelings is not an easy task for me.

That’s why I started writing, and I’m asking you to implore me.

I’ve felt as if I’ve been shunned by my savannah people so my mind has been pretty stormy.

I’m definitely not writing for sympathy or for a “poor me”

All I’m asking for is answers and forgiveness.

In my youth i guess giving you the role of the bad guys were insistent.

I’m not oblivious to that anymore.

I’ve closed all doors of my past and only opened one more.

And when I opened it he came to me in spirit and told me to let go of being so resilient, and that I do have a reason for existence.

So like these crumpled pieces of paper, I’m throwing my past in the trash and trying to put my words and myself out there because I have this manifestation of great emotion to share.

I’m sorry for the way I acted as an adolescent.

I’m ashamed of my past, but I hope that you can except my apologies so we can move to the present.

The past me was a peasant, who constantly had to take an antidepressant and anxiety suppressant, with a life that seemed evanescent.

The REAL me can only see the future that is meant for me and my family.

And that future is BRIGHT.

I guess my question is, do you guys wanna be a part of that future?

I’m no longer in that long lasting past stupor,

And the past follows my dreams like Freddy Kruger, but I still get up every morning and prepare the suture.

In other words, I’ll always carry the scars, but those scars brought wisdom.

And with that wisdom, I’ve started building a kindom.

Not for me but for my children.

So do you wanna be with them?

Do you consider us fam?

Am I apart of your prodigy?

I’m only asking for the prodigy’s of me.

They deserve the world you see?

So I often sit and wonder if my kids will ever know there grandpa Danny.

We may not be fancy, and may not fit into your high profile and standards that you have in your society, but I do promise that we are happy.

My heart was black, and god had the power to heal me.

But he also told me that from that point on, I needed to heal myself. Better myself.

To encourage positivity to others.

I apologize for the past me, and my eyes are no longer covered.

I love you guys and would love to see a table full of family just like the painting of the last supper.

But I still have a small piece of me that mummers “you and your family don’t belong” or “you’re not wanted” and my heart flutters.

I can read between the lines, but I also need to fill the gaps while my mind recovers.

So…

Are we gonna get to know each other?

Leave our minds at wonder?

Or put a lid on that fire and call it smothered.

I just need answers to get past my broken past sumpers.

With all love and more,

-Brittany