All My Truths & One Lie

by Fabiola Francisco

  But in giving in to each fear, I gave away the strength I used to carry. The strength I didn’t even know adults admired. I gave away you. Me.

  I feel like I’ve lost so much time of my life not being who I was born to be. Focusing on the shit and disappointment. Confusion took the place of strength, and I cowered at the idea of shining, of allowing someone else to see me. I devalued myself. I made myself believe I was unworthy of love. Didn’t need it. Love was a false fairytale they fed me to make me believe in something. But as a child, I connected love to leaving, to pain, to abandonment.

  I used to joke by saying I had abandonment and commitment issues. It was easier to throw that out at people as a joke than have to seriously express it. To this day, I still have those fears. I still believe that love will lead to loneliness. And I did just that with Matthias. I did that with you. I abandoned you instead of proving that not everyone leaves. How could I when my own self couldn’t show up for myself.

  I’m sorry.

  I’m sorry I allowed years of pain to win over love. I’m sorry I shut you down, silencing your voice because I was too consumed with how bad people were. I was too shocked to speak up. Too embarrassed. It was so embarrassing to have to admit what I had lived through. It still kinda is. For that, I apologize because you deserve better than someone who turns her back on herself.

  You were just a girl.

  You should’ve been laughing and running around, free. Not suddenly terrified of being left alone without supervision.

  I want you to know that it’s okay to feel sad. It’s okay to cry, it’s okay just to feel. But I also want you to know that you’re strong. You are worth so much. I love you.

  From now on, I will show you that. I will love myself and care for who I am, showing my truth. I will go back to my essence and live from that place. I will release hatred toward those who wronged me directly and indirectly. The only way to be honest is by embracing all of me, flaws and perfections. I will no longer be ashamed of my story or how I reacted to it. It’s time to break the silence. It’s time to heal. It’s time to forgive.

  So, I’m sorry.

  For not being present. For hiding you and burying you so deep, I don’t even remember who you are. Who I am.

  I’m working on it though. I’m trying hard to release fear and find that spark of life I used to have.

  What I really should apologize for is letting you get hurt. I should’ve protected you better, been more aware. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry for allowing someone to touch you when you didn’t want it. I’m so sorry.

  You were just a girl with dreams and so much joy. With a bright light that was dimmed. I had the key to it all, but I let the light die away instead of finding a way to keep it going, a way to rise above.

  I know I can’t continue to carry the blame. I can’t hold on to other people’s pain either. I’m not some kind of chest that is here to pile on more and more. It’s the curse of an empath though. We take it on, willingly or unwillingly.

  I should’ve just been more focused on you. On me. All these years. I could’ve done more to get to this place than I have. It’s taken too long.

  I can’t judge that now and let it weigh me down because then this letter is pointless. I have to focus that I’m now taking the time to heal this part of me. It’s weird, writing a letter to myself and speaking as if it’s someone else, but in a way it is. I’m speaking to me, the one that was real. From a point that is more an illusion, a falsehood.

  When I have a little girl, I’ll make sure to show her the magic of this world despite ugliness existing. I’ll be the strong leader. Starting today. I am a strong leader. I am courageous. I am safe.

  Thank you for not giving up on me. For shining every bit you could, so I’d remember and crave to go back to that person. Thank you for your innocence, though it was stripped from you. Thank you for loving the wildflowers. For reminding me how to play.

  We’re going to be more than okay. I promise to spend more time connected to the life I’m living and less time disconnected from myself. I promise to go back to the beginning, to reach for your hand and incorporate you to what I’m living. I promise to forgive myself for the harm I did to myself. For the times I didn’t choose life because it was easier to quit. From now on, I choose to live. I choose to experience it all because I want to and no longer hide from things because I’m afraid that patterns will repeat themselves.

  It’s time to go back to my core.

  Love,

  Navia

  P.S. Because I always forget to add something in. What happened isn’t our fault. We don’t need to drown in it. We have the choice to be free.

  I turn in bed, shoulders tight from sleep, and notice the sun is just starting to rise. As soon as I stand, the folded chunk of paper filled with words catches my eye under the purple amethyst. I sigh as the emotional waves come back to me like a dizzying hangover. My exhale travels through me until it escapes my parted lips.

  Writing that letter was a good release; however, it resurfaced a lot more than I had originally considered. It focused on parts I hadn’t paid attention to when I became poisoned with the stories I learned as an adult. Another thing to cover up my truth, who I am at my core. It also reminded me of the person I lost because of all I’ve been holding.

  I move through my home until I make it out on the balcony. I shiver, wrapping my arms around my body, and squint my eyes at the change in lighting. The strong sphere of fire shines its rays through the trees. My right foot steps on my left one as I lean back into the wall. The chilled concrete wakes me up as goosebumps cover my skin, but the view is worth the cold morning.

  “Thank you.” A whispered prayer. “Another day to make things right.” I inhale shakily, tears blurring the rays I’m admiring.

  I came here for great things, part of it being my own healing. I hadn’t expected that to knock me down so hard, so fast. I thought my own healing would continue in a static progression where I could take my time, not a sudden strike of immense emotional baggage. I guess that’s the thing when we take action into our own lives, the Universe accelerates everything around us. Ready or not.

  I rub my eyes as the sun continues to rise, lighting up the sky and my surroundings, brightening up the flowers below me. I love moments like this where I take the time to pause and be present. It’s not often I do this, as much as I want to. But how can I not pause with the beauty around me? My body trembles from the cold, my tank top and shorts not ideal to be standing out here in the early morning.

  Time for coffee.

  I make my way into the kitchen to start the coffee and grab my journal and sweater while I wait for the coffee to brew.

  My mind wanders to Matthias, wondering if he’s sleeping or awake, watching the same sun as I was. Before I met him, I questioned if the person I ended up with would be good-hearted. If he would fool me the way my grandfather had. Would I be like my grandmother? Sleeping with the devil and not strong enough to protect the people I love.

  I wondered if the victim would become the perpetrator and I’d marry him. Have children with him.

  Then I saw his eyes. I knew, at that moment, everything his mouth wouldn’t tell me. He wants better than what he had.

  I want to believe that at least.

  Except I let him walk. I wasn’t any stronger than my grandmother because I disappointed the person I love. In an entirely different space than what she did, I also didn’t stand my ground.

  Her memory weighs heavy on my heart. How I wish I could talk to her now, ask her questions. I don’t hate her anymore. Although, there are still some things I can’t comprehend.

  I guess it’s not for me to understand.

  With my sweater keeping me warm and the coffee mug steaming, I go back out onto the balcony and take a seat this time, opening my journal to a new page.

  The Keeper of Secrets

  I add the date on the right side of the title and begin writing a new section for the book I’m wor
king on. As soon as the title hit me, I began to release so much more. The writing took a different route than my original idea, but it’s turning out much better than I could’ve imagined.

  My thoughts are a bit scattered this morning after last night but writing this is the one thing that will center me, put me back on my path, so I can be the person Matthias deserves. Not a flighty woman that he’ll never know will push or pull.

  He deserves to have every part of me in true transparency, the same way I deserve his love and affection.

  I should just call him.

  I reach for my phone instead of my pen and toy with the idea of contacting him. My guilt stops me from pressing down on his name. Shame for showing him my weakness. Guilt for not going after him. Sadness because I know right now we need this time apart. Realizations like these are hard to embrace.

  I can’t continue to repeat these patterns, of turning around and ignoring the person that’s standing in front of me. Twice in my young adult life, I ditched dates at school dances because their presence was too consuming, too suffocating. Instead of talking or just enjoying one night, I fled. It’s what I’m good at—fleeing into the crowd to be swallowed up, camouflaged not to be found.

  I turn my phone over, hiding the screen from my wandering eyes, and grab my pen again, prepared to continue working on the book that will help free me. Or at least, that will be a step in the direction of truly using my voice for a greater good.

  The Keeper of Secrets

  I begin to scribble on the page.

  Though patterns repeat themselves in generations, they have a purpose. Similar experiences surface to show the family that healing needs to be done. These patterns are a way of calling attention. Many times they are overlooked, a shrug that he or she has similarities of a family member because they are family, after all. In reality, the person is begging for someone to pay attention, realize that something isn’t right. Sometimes, someone does pay attention. They realize something has to be healed. Not just the person showing these “symptoms” but the family as a whole.

  Breaking patterns down generational lineage is powerful for the current generation, those that came before, and those that will come after. Energetic freedom.

  When it comes to secrets covered in families, the weight is heavier. Exclusion causes more energetic ties and tears.

  I close my eyes. My family has all of these and more. Maybe it’s why when I made the switch in this book the words began to flow. It’s all so familiar. However, it’s not just my family that has secrets, regrets, and pain. We all do, but not all may be aware. My hope with this book is to help others. Maybe tap the tip of the iceberg so that people begin to become conscious of how to release the baggage limiting their magic.

  Shaking my head, I grimace when I drink cold coffee. Noting the time on my phone, I go inside and change. It’s too pretty of a day to spend it indoors. I take advantage of my day off, more like prescribed staycation by Makenna so I can work through my emotions, and head into town. I’ll stop by to see her later on and tell her about the progress I made yesterday.

  As I make my way through the streets, the town still quiet, I walk into a small, quaint café for breakfast and fresh coffee.

  As I wait to be served, I remember something I read in a book recently. I open my app and search my highlights for In the Gray. When I read this part, I had to stop and breathe. The truth hit me with force straight to my chest. I paused, tears falling down my face because those words were meant for me. The same way they can be meant for so many others who struggle to forgive themselves.

  I re-read the words that touched me so many months ago.

  “…you must forgive yourself. You must accept that no matter what you were wearing, what you did or didn’t say, it’s not your fault. Until you stop hating yourself for what happened to you, you won’t be able to let someone else love you.”

  I close my eyes, trapping the tears threatening to embarrass me in public and catch my breath. A.D. McCammon wrote such real words in a tale of fiction. But that’s just it, right? Fiction is always inspired by reality. How many people feel that way? Blaming and hating yourself because you didn’t act. I know I do. I hate myself because it happened when I was a child and too weak to defend myself, paralyzed by fear. I hate that it shut down my passion for life, confusion stopping me from saying something was wrong because it would create so much shit in our family. What I didn’t know is the shit was already dumped on us.

  I smile at the waitress when she hands me my coffee and breakfast, pretending like everything is okay. Another mask. Sitting straighter, I thank her and decide I don’t need to hide. Let her think I’m heartbroken. It’s the damn truth.

  I inhale the aroma swirling from my mug and blow the steaming liquid. These secrets killed me. Now I’m carrying secrets that belong to others, not mine to tell, yet I hold them in my hand. I can’t speak for them, but maybe I can help them speak for themselves by being an example. I don’t want to be the keeper of secrets anymore. I don’t want to carry on more than I have. I want to be happy, truly…with Matthias.

  I want to be free.

  Instead of writing in my journal, I enjoy my breakfast, disconnecting from everything that isn’t solely focused on me moving forward. Disconnecting from everything that isn’t this present moment, my coffee, scrambled eggs, and toast. Right now, nothing else matters.

  After finishing up, I walk out into the cool morning. I pause, debating if to go right or left when I stare straight ahead as movement captures my attention like a mesmerizing meteor shower. Blue eyes meet mine, sensing me across the way, and a soft smile marks his face as he nods once. His hand grips the top of the open car door before climbing in and driving away. I haven’t seen him since he walked out of my apartment, but his presence will always calm me despite the way we left things.

  I close my eyes and face the sky, memorizing his smile, directed at me. I decide to go back to Chalice Well.

  Matthias was here. We can’t seem to miss each other despite the current break in our course. My soul will always call to his, the same way it had before I met him.

  I walk into the office where I find Makenna sitting on the sofa, reading a book.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” she says without lifting her gaze from the book.

  “I was writing.” I sit across from her in the armchair, dropping the feather I found along the way into the bowl she leaves for me.

  “Have you found a flow?” Makenna drops the book on the low table that separates us and stares at me.

  “Yes. I have a title as well.” I giggle when her eyebrows raise. “The Keeper of Secrets.”

  “Interesting title,” is her only comment before she pauses, fingers grazing her lips.

  “Yeah,” I draw out, waiting to see if she says something else.

  “Why did you choose that?”

  Choose? As if I could choose it. “It came to me,” I explain.

  “And why do you think that choice of words?”

  I exhale, knowing what she’s doing. She wants me to look for the answers within myself. “Because I’m tired of carrying everyone else’s secrets, even secrets they don’t know they have dug deep into the crevices of their souls. I’m tired of keeping my own hidden in the dark night, sharing them only with the moon and stars. It’s time for people to understand the extremities of holding on. The damage it does and the years of pain that deteriorates our purpose. I’m tired, Makenna, so fucking tired of holding on to everyone’s shit without being asked to. The keeper of secrets simply means that the chest that holds them can no longer survive. Eventually, it bursts open from too many piles of baggage. It’s time for the truth to triumph. I hope this book heals to those who read it.”

  A small smile appears on Makenna’s face. “My darling, if you write from the heart there’s no way it won’t offer healing.”

  “Why do I have to know so much?” I look down, choking on my words.

  “Because someone has to be strong e
nough to bring them to light. How else will healing occur?”

  I look up at her, a frown taking over. “It made me lose Matthias.”

  She shakes her head. “You can’t lose someone like Matthias. Soul connections are impossible to cut. You took time, both of you, to deal with your own challenges. He gave you the space he felt you needed. He’s allowing you time to heal for yourself, not for him or your relationship, because he understands that when you do, it will also provide healing for your relationship. When you’re in balance, everything around you will be as well.”

  I wipe my cheek with the back of my thumb and nod. “How long do I have to wait?”

  “Dear, that choice is up to you.” She smiles. “How long do you want the poison of anger and resentment in your system?”

  “No more,” I shake my head as I whisper.

  “Forgive yourself. It’s the only way you’ll be able to forgive others.”

  I think back to the quote I read while eating breakfast and the letter I wrote to myself. I tell Makenna about it.

  “Burn the letter. Let the fire transmute it so you can be free of it and return the ashes to the Earth.” I nod, listening to her instructions. “You don’t need to hold on to that anymore. When we accept forgiveness, it’s done. Why clasp on to it? It’s done. That’s it.” She swipes her hands together.

  She makes it sound so easy, yet there’s truth to her words. We hold on from the ego, feeling as if we need a certain amount of time to process emotions when in reality time is irrelevant in the universe. Time is manmade. If we’re moving forward at an unimaginable speed, then what I forgave should be done with, released. My mind is what continues to play the pain on a loop. My soul has already forgiven.

  My soul has already forgiven, I repeat to myself. I’ve already forgiven.