retablo

noun.
a frame or shelf enclosing decorated panels or revered objects behind an altar.

i wonder, what are my revered objects?
i mean, in the veritable "church of myself," what is it that i hold dear?
i mean intentionally.

and what's back there that snuck in?
or i forgot it was there?
or that i learned to wield for survival?
or that i outgrew but i haven't released?
or was passed to me from my ancestors, from generation to generation?
or was from that cursed vine?

or if it isn't directly from the vine (master of insidiousness, that it is), then it acts like the most natural camouflage.

i think spending time with my family is my most painful mirror.
and, if i choose it, is my most helpful one.

i have that funny feeling again.
it's like a fluttery feeling that hovers in my stomach and throat.
that certain discomfort that i feel when i know, i know, i have been given another opportunity to do it better.

i pray that i don't let this opportunity slip by.
tho, in so many ways, i wish it would just go away.

ah, it's too big now to ignore.
and i'm scared.
and i know it's a gift.
and i feel nauseous.

all these wounded parts of me are screaming.

hello again humiliation.
hello again guilt.
hello again shame.

i see you.
moreover, i feel you.

you no longer run the show.

I do.

and really, really, THANK YOU!
you have played your parts beautifully.
i know that i have not sufficiently given you your due.
and believe me, i do intend to, in my time and in my own way.
because i know we can't really be friends 'til i do.
i will.
promise.
and perhaps, it will even be in a refined or genteel way.
i hope, at the very least, it will be in a way that actually reflects and honors what worthy companions and adversaries you all have been.

but for now, for now, get the fuck out of my retablo.