Becoming Me: One Awkward Step at a Time

Working towards consciousness often feels like swimming from the dark, cold depths of a lake upward to the warm, sunny surface, surrounded by trees and grass in a deep green hue—the same green as my mother’s favorite evening dress from an old fashion magazine.

The feeling is so real—the inability to breathe, the cold, the loneliness—but also the hope of reaching the surface, where the light pours down, the warmth of the sun awaits, and the sound of birds fills the air.

And upon reaching the surface, a significant step is achieved, though the state is difficult to hold. I am dragged down to the bottom again, forced to start over—like a rehearsal for every story I need to re-experience. I bring it to the surface, bathe it in light and warmth, and offer forgiveness, so I can truly appreciate everything I once took for granted but now realize is so precious.