I put on makeup today at twelve thirty in the afternoon

To cover up two and a half days of crying.
Because I’m still learning how to let go of more than fifteen years of crappy conditioning.
That taught me to put on a problem-free face
That said I could bitch about busy
But that the world couldn’t handle my deepest emotions
Feelings first felt the first time my father told me to stop.
To stop crying.
After fifteen years, I still forget, sometimes, that I’m allowed.
I wonder if he was allowed
to cry?
I wonder how many generations the suppressed pain goes back?
And I wonder just how far it is that I can feel.
Sometimes, it feels as though I can feel it all,
and all I want to do is return to sender.
But, with movement and music
and a bit of breathing
I come back into my body.
I take note of my strong foundation
And the softness of my heart
And, from that place
of expanded awareness,
I come to know that this is all part of my gift.
Not chosen. But handed to me.
And I accept.
I don’t know how long it will take
For all the un-doing,
For nakedness to become my norm.
But later in the evening I cried again.
Deep from my belly
Or perhaps from beyond.
My makeup smeared. I washed my face clean.
And I looked at myself in the mirror.
And I saw the gentle, powerful,
sweet, capable, honesty
Of who I am.
It’s not who I’m always capable of seeing.
But I know she’s always there.

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Author: Jaime Lauren Posa
Image: Author’s own
Editor: Callie Rushton
Copy Editor: Catherine Monkman