Still Asking to be Seen
How many apologies
must be laid at the feet of the past
before they stop echoing
through every room?
I have carried regret
like loose change in my pocket,
heavy enough to notice,
small enough that no one else sees it.
I never wanted
to become the hands that raised me,
sharp with exhaustion,
cold with survival.
So I tried to break the inheritance.
I learned softness
where none was given.
Learned kindness
like a second language.
Offered pieces of myself
to anyone who needed warmth.
Still, I stand outside
the glass of other people’s lives
watching laughter flicker
through their windows.
Twenty minutes away
might as well be another country.
There is always a reason.
The dog is too large.
The drive is too long.
The timing is bad.
Excuses stack quietly
like unopened mail.
And somewhere along the way,
I began to wonder
if absence is simply
the gentlest form of rejection.
I am afraid to speak plainly
about loneliness.
People turn vulnerability
into theater.
Into gossip.
Into proof that you are difficult to love.
But once,
when the children were small,
I was still magic to them.
Back then,
their hands reached for mine
without hesitation.
Back then,
love arrived easily.
Everything changed
the moment I chose myself.
The moment I stopped surviving
and asked for something more.
I was told
without words
that wanting happiness
was selfish.
That leaving exhaustion
was betrayal.
So now holidays arrive
like uninvited witnesses.
Phones stay silent.
Messages go unanswered.
And heartbreak settles softly,
like dust across furniture
no one touches anymore.
Still,
I tried.
God, I tried.
I carried entire households
on my back
while calling it marriage,
calling it motherhood,
calling it duty.
I cooked.
Cleaned.
Worked.
Remembered every appointment,
every bill,
every need but my own.
I disappeared so completely
into taking care of everyone else
that I forgot
what it felt like
to be held gently.
No one called me beautiful.
No one reached for my hand
just because they wanted to.
I was useful.
That is not the same thing
as loved.
And beneath it all
lived the old ghosts of childhood,
where love was measured
by labor,
where worth was earned
through exhaustion.
So yes,
I wanted more.
Not riches.
Not perfection.
Just this:
To be chosen.
To be missed.
To be called first.
To be welcomed warmly
instead of tolerated quietly.
To have someone look at me
and say,
You mattered here.
You still do.
@JerseyGirl55305
This made me cry 😔
Hauntingly beautiful.
Sad.
Vulnerable.
Raw.
Honest.
Woven together seamlessly.
Thank you for letting us in.
I'm sorry you had to walk through any of this.
And it's inspiring that you are still a kind, and beautiful person 🩷
Have you thought of writing a book? Are you an author/writer/novelist? This is one of the most beautiful heartwarming heartaching posts I have ever read. Please give me the time to express how exquisite it was reading that. Your words were out of the planet. Platonic and ironic. I thank you deeply for sharing them here. I needed to read this and needed a voice.
I’m not a mother yet lived a life of a mother. When my mom passed away, I have taken her role voluntarily unintentionally and did not realize it was something bigger than my feet to fill. Supported, loved, cared and healed everyone around me and forgot who I was. I was just another human being who wanted to be seen. Carried a burden that was heavy on my shoulders yet invisible to many. Guilt dragged me deep that appreciation was never part of my life equation. Everything was taken for granted. Silent crying nights, silent tears, silent screams and void. Self love was never worthy of me. Why? I truly never understood why is the happiness of others was in my hand. What about my happiness? I want to smile. I want to enjoy breathing. I wanted to breathe period. My past haunted me like my shadow. Always reminded me of how horrible I have been and how awful I have made them be. I’m not weak. They saw me strong. I just wanted to feel “it wasn’t my fault”. Oh my god what a post! Guilt and grief echoed so loud. It was unbearable, suffocating and miserable. Drowning like there’s no shallow.
17 years gone of my life and I don’t regret it at all. It was the time I needed to grow, see and realize. It was the time I needed to get to know myself again. It was the time needed to build a momentum that will help me forward. It was the time I had to stop myself from resenting them as they were used to things I have created in the first place. They never asked for them and I chose to give it to them. I will break the inheritance and will make a beautiful present for a better future.
I loved every bit of this post 🥰 Thank you from the bottom of my heart
so much for being “lady in silence” 🤭
@JourneySteward please don’t carry it with you
@JerseyGirl55305
This poem resonated.
It’s as if you have taken residency in my heart and mind.
This hit home on so many levels for me.
Thank you for sharing.