when I felt empty,

     I thought it was my fault

or that I had no worth.

         and since I couldn’t explain it

and there was no guidance offered with it

    all I could think to do

was to run from that pit that I feared was my core

and I wanted to deny that I was afraid

       and deny that I was running.

Until someone kindly pointed out that I was treating my fleeing in terror as if it were a way of exercising to stay in shape.

Funny that. It was the truth. Still brings a smile . . .

Side note: one of the real cattle prods that I was given to start my flight from truth was a belief: When I was very young, I was told that I had done something really bad (well, not me exactly—apparently my proxy) . . . this was a serious chat at the time, mind you . . .and in my innocence and in my heart I knew this could not be true . . . and if it were? . . . not a clue what it could be . . .

And then I was told that not to believe in my own sinfulness was, in itself, a sin.

Needless to say, that was a lot to unpack.

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    Disclaimer: Poetic license is at work both here and in my books. Any errors or anomalies are through no fault of my editor. These were left deliberately at my expressed intention to clearly indicate that goodness does not require perfection.

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