To The Walk-Aways:
Lydia Joy


The damage I see everywhere, all around me, the stuff I left behind. It's in the call for help, that young person wading through the darkness on their own, because Mom and Dad preach love, but refuse to love the real them. 

I see it in the broken pieces of the hallowed eyed wife, married for a decade to a "godly" man who she gave babies to and works herself broken, tip-toeing to avoid his temper and who can't get his words degrading her self worth to zero out of her head.

I see it in young girls and boys who in order to find some safety, leave their past communities with no education, no practice and no idea what it takes to survive in the real world or how to go after it. 

I see the girl who is self conscious and nervous, never having been able to speak up and disagree with a man or anyone in an authority position. Her hands tremble, heart pounds, but she forces out that timid disagreement to a crowd of silent cheers.

I recognize that suspicious stare, the one that never quite meets your eyes because theirs are downcast, struggling to trust anyone and everything since someone and something helped create that skeptic in them. The only person they trust is themselves, and that's only 50% of the time, with the other half secretly hoping the next person will prove their insecurities wrong. 

❅

I see it in the wanderers, the dreamers, the searchers, and the ones that are between current and former believers. 

Somewhere between the memories, triggers, dogwhistles, and present, I see these faces. 

The weary and downtrodden, the chin lifters, square shoulders, the pushing forward feet. 

The keep-on goers and the water waders, the darkness survivors, the spark lighters at the end of their own tunnels. 

It's the perseveres with anxious thoughts, the smiles and the tears, the laughing sadness and the glue to a thousand broken hearts in their own circles even though they don't have a clue. 

It's the ones who walk a straight line, but it's also the rule breakers that create their own, and the daredevils that takes an eraser to it and kick up that sand with a laugh, being done with self imposed guidelines. 

These are the faces I see, the brave actions I witness day after day, status updaters and the silent lurkers. I see you, you're not alone. We're in this crazy world together. I hope it gets better for you. And if these are you best days, I hope it lasts. 

To the walk-aways: let's push our dreams forward. Let's help each other get free and hold the door open for the ones behind—that girl, that boy, that loved one and friend. Let's live now and hope they join us on this journey. In the meantime, celebrate each breath away.♥

Photo courtesy: Google Images

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