peace of me

sitting with my cat along my driveway, i spotted a tiny, glimmering shard of glass embedded in the nearby dirt. i picked it up, knowing exactly what it was and where it came from. this was no doubt a remain from destruction i caused outside (and inside) of my home during a traumatizing event that occurred in september 2020.

at this time, i became the victim of internet hacking, harassment, betrayal, and hateful yet cowardly actions imposed by groups upon groups of people who viewed me as unfavorable. i was made out to be the scapegoat, fair game, and open season not only for their own internally unresolved issues and immaturity, but also for anyone with an issue they could not directly confront, address, and conclude with me one-on-one. no—their bravery instead brewed from bandwagoning power in numbers, from the hundreds of miles in between, from the several years that had passed. i smashed glasses and bottles around my home and against the hard concrete out of rage, brokenness, anger, loneliness, and the powerlessness i felt. as a non-violent person by choice, a person who actively chooses kindness and peace instead of the alternative unless warranted, this was as close as i could get to physically harming those who harmed me. i would say, in retrospect, the circumstances favorable for them were also favorable for me.

examining the piece of glass, i felt a sense of serendipity overcome me. it was like everything came full circle six months later. this situation began at the tail of summer, before autumn, before everything withered—including me. the old me, that is. she went to join the other discarded versions of my pasts selves, each version just as important and cherished as the transformations that left them no longer needed. each version, just as important as the woman i now have proudly developed into because of them. i was at considerably the lowest point of my life, contemplating life itself, wondering how i would recuperate. that piece of glass showed me that, just as the forgotten piece of glass survived the shattering, so did i.

i thought i'd cleaned up everything, but no. there was this one last piece now tucked in the midst of flowers at the tail of winter, before spring, before everything blooms again—including me. just as this piece of glass was found scattered in the dirt, i found the missing pieces of myself within the dirt as well. i emerged from it. i grew from it. i learned. i became so much better. and so it continues, the sprouting of my stem and the opening of my petals.

all thanks to our Creator.

k.c.d., 03/2021