Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time,
I dreamed of having a life
other than my own.
Any other life would do.
I'd dream of being someone else,
of swapping with another,
or of reincarnating.
For death seemed
easier to face than grieving.
Death occurs in an instant,
grief can last a lifetime.

Once upon a time,
I felt like the only way
I could love myself
was to be someone else.
Once upon a time,
I despised myself
for all of my behavioral
idiosyncrasies.
I hated that I couldn't
get others to understand me.
I hated that I couldn't
pretend to be "normal",
though now I know
there's many more than one
definition of "normal".

From where I currently stand,
I can see that all of my
idiosyncrasies
stem from my early traumas;
the friction between me and my peers
also stemmed from these.
All of the reasons I felt I had
to hate myself
were the unwanted gifts
my biological parents
left me with.

But these unwanted gifts
have already been useful.
These traits I used to hate
have made me more patient
with children.
These traits I used to hate
have made me more empathetic
towards others.
These idiosyncrasies
that I used to despise
have become gifts for others.
For whenever someone displays
a behavior that I have noted in myself,
my first response is compassion
instead of judgement.
And that is no small gift.

And when I learn to love my story
enough to share it,
people will be comforted to know
that there is still hope,
even after trauma.