Pieces of Me
The parts demanding to be seen.
In the quiet leading up to — and especially after — last night’s ketamine session, something inside me splintered wide open.
It wasn’t violent. It was subtle — but internally, it felt pivotal. Like a space once sealed off opening up, exhaling for the first time in years.
I’m starting to recognize the parts of myself that have been pushing and pulling beneath the surface — the ones who disappeared without ever leaving, who performed to stay safe, who retreated before they could be seen, or hurt, or questioned.
They’re not just memories.
They’re alive in me now — urgent, aching, loud in ways that don’t always make noise.
This piece is a naming.
A reaching.
A beginning.
For the parts demanding to be felt, and maybe — one day — understood.
The terrified one shivers - so small, so full of fright. She’s just 4 years old, desperate to be held until she can trust the night.
The shameful one immediately retreats, taught that tears invite sharp critique. She’s in middle school but still wears the names they gave to the weak.
The one who performs doesn’t speak unless it’s right. She swallows her needs, answers in A’s and apologies, then disappears out of sight.
Powerful piece and beautiful poem ❤️