“They” say that our past makes us who we are. I’ve always been a little foggy on exactly who “they” are and what makes them so special; and why does my past have to mold me? what if I don’t want to be molded by it (because, honestly, I’ve never been able to see much good from that)? I’m getting ahead of myself though.

“They” say it so frequently that it’s ingrained into us – into me, as much as I try to keep it from being true.

I’ve spent so long running from my past – because dealing with it is exhausting. I get tired, easily, of the bubble I grew up in and escaped from. There is so much hurt, so many memories, and blocked memories that reveal themselves in shadow and inexplicable emotion. I felt for a while, that maybe it was best to just move forward – and I tried. The clutches of my past somehow keep up with me no matter how far or fast I run.

Right now, I’m tired of running. I’ve been able to keep ahead of it, for a while – but what’s the point, really? In plaguing myself with a less than whole existence because I’m scared and ashamed of something that really wasn’t my fault?

I grow and learn and heal slowly, progress comes over several of the same epiphanies, and my mind goes in cycles of needing to be alone in the normal world, and being able to face the dark crevices of buried things. Eventually I’ll get the hang of this enough so I can balance the two worlds I feel like I’m straddling. One where I’m just your every day geek girl attempting to be decent at gaming, making movies and reading fantasy, and the other where I’m a shoulder, a hand, and (in my imagination) a champion of those who can’t stand up for themselves, I (want to) stand alongside other strong women (people) helping those who’ve grown up in the same spiritually, psychologically, and emotionally abusive world we did: learn how to stand on their feet and realize how capable they are.

Only now that I’ve written the previous paragraph do I see how very compatible these two things are; that I can be both, or more accurately that these two sides aren’t really sides at all, they are me. I dreamt of heroism since I was a child, and while I wouldn’t say I’m doing anything remotely heroic, I can’t abandon the countless people stuck in the world I fought my way out of – am still fighting my way out of – and I think that’s why my past doesn’t let me go. I need, however, to know when I need to rest and stop and take care of myself, and not allow myself to get lost.

I’m getting a strange case of dejá vu right now.