The Weight of You

There was a familiar voice ringing in my ear. I looked to the left and there sat a face from my past. I skipped hello, avoided eye contact, and felt my nerves arise. I realized sitting at the table that Friday morning that I was held captive.

At one point in my life, I was in a controlling relationship. It felt like an ‘outside of the box’ relationship, except I was in a box. A cage. Lacking freedom. It wasn’t until I got out of it that I realized how controlling it really was. Have you ever been in a relationship that goes on and on and on. The hardships are constant. The end is felt, but you stay? Maybe the thoughts of “what if?” When it ended, finally, I remember sitting in a bathtub and not knowing what to do with myself. I was empty, as if soulless. Thank god, now that seems like a different lifetime. What strength it held over me where looking back at myself now, I was ridiculous.

As the week has gone on and I’ve revisited that morning mentally. I remembered a painting I bought from the summer library auction going back further, 18 years ago. I was with my Mom and this painting fascinated me! It drew me in. It was of a person, not sure what gender, and she/he was sitting in a corner looking up. The paintings background ranged green shades from light to dark and transformed to reds. The colors gave feelings, the eyes the same and the person was portrayed as nude, but arms, knees covered private parts.

I put this all together. Before I dive into the painting and it resembling pieces of me, I want to own it. I am responsible for my life’s choices. The painting was me, and that facade that held me for so long and even some time after. That time of my life was like the painting too, “fascinating!” In the relationship I bared myself, let someone in. Gave away secrets, opened my mind and heart, but it got twisted in the mix. I learned characteristics of narcissism. I was blind in some of it and naive in chapters of it too. Those are the risks of parts in love. Reflecting back on breakfast’s unexpected visitor the other day, connecting that with the toxic relationship I once had, the time frame consisted of years, and the funnel of manipulation confused for kindness, or admiration.. sucked me in. My heart and mind conversed, “Why is this holding me?”

A wave of comfort came over me, refreshing. I felt the old shackles fall on the floor as I walked away from the table too. The weight of you, gone.

Amy Scott

Born in Atlantic City NJ, and raised in NEPA. Forever a lover of sand and ocean, but would escape to the woods and a cabin. Fan of traveling, small coffee shops, real feels and deep conversations. A girl that will throw the car in reverse to photograph something that catches her eye. Continuing to find herself even at 40. Amy holds the first four year college degree in her family history. A mother of two daughters who come first. Photographer of family and abstract. Writer of life pieces and poetry. Passionate in inspiring others to always find the positive.

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