Matilde Rudolph

I’m not a shortcut to bliss, I’m not an anchor for your pain.

Don’t deny your own hell.

When they see my power they forget my pain, when they see my pain they forget my power.

Some of us don’t have a “normal” to return to. We are still learning to find glimpses of peace in the storm, instead of trying to calm a storm that will never calm completely.

Your strength is the bravery it took to let the walls to your heart fall – it’s not about how hard you fought to destroy them.

Just because you lose all hope doesn’t mean that no good will come for you.

Maybe it’s not a new chapter. Maybe it’s a whole new book.

Breathe. There is time.

My biggest desire is to be me. And to lose the person I was taught to become to handle the world’s sickness.

When you deny your pain you deny your presence.

If you’re holding on simply because you’re scared of what will happen if you let go, are you holding on out of love or fear?

You were meant to soften, not toughen.

I don’t care about how much I do in life, I care if I’m present to experience it.

You can’t harvest the joy of my being without facing the pain you caused it.

I was never supposed to let my guard down for other’s to get to know me. I was supposed to go deeper within myself, for me to know myself.

Give yourself love in the shape of patience.

I will not settle for what is comfortable, when what is comfortable is to be deprived of more love and life.

You see me enjoy life, but you don’t see how scared I’ve been of just that.

Childhood trauma is doing time for someone else’s crime.

They made my soul scared to be free. I learned that being free was more dangerous than being a captive.

Just disappoint them all. And watch yourself become free.

Let them leave you, but don’t leave yourself.

Parental abuse and neglect is soul torture.

Life is lived inside, not outside.

You were just a jewel among people who didn’t know they were jewels too.

If you deny you are a victim, you not only bleed on other’s but you live in a pool of blood.

If the sorrow wants to be here, I want to be allowed to be here too.

The prisoner who does not know they is imprisoned, don’t know what freedom is, and won’t fight for it.

I want to live with the pain. Not in it.

They threw a bomb at you and ran, then blamed you for breaking into a million pieces.

What is left, when all is broken down? Whose eyes are looking?

If the truth is your enemy, you won’t speak it, instead you’ll force others to speak it for you. And you won’t like it.

I’m a light of embrace, as well as a light that sheds more light, on all that is in the dark.

As long as you deny your inner sea, you’ll never understand the pain, beauty, power, wisdom, that flows within me.

What can heal – and traumatize us the most – are the people around us.

How do you know who you are, if you were never allowed to be who you are? How can you love yourself, when there is no self to love and be loved with?

Walking away from your abusers is the biggest act of self-love.

I was not avoiding life. I was not avoiding love. I was not avoiding relating to other’s. I was avoiding being in the world on someone else’s terms. The only terms I had learned.

I don’t want to be famous, I want to be known.

Don’t mistake my kindness with lack of boundaries.

Your life doesn’t require you to be fearless.

Maybe you were meant to fall apart. The foundation you lived on is falling apart to. The only way you learned to exist in the world.

You can’t change your emotions, but you can learn to change how you feel about your emotions.

The hurt is not growing, your awareness is.

Be where you are, so you can be who you are.

I face my pain so no one has to carry it like I did my parents.

You project onto me because of your own unwillingness to go within yourself.

You can’t trigger me with your authenticity, but I can trigger you with mine.

THERE ARE MULTIPLE VERSIONS OF ME

It’s like I was put in the ground as a seed
and not being cared for to grow or succeed
but somehow, miraculously, I’m still bursting through the ground

I have survived.

And even though my leaves might be crooked
and some petals are long the way
I have still broken out.

I might not be standing straight
I might not be standing tall
But I did break through.

And then there’s a part of me
a part of my seeds that are still in the soil
still waiting for someone
bigger than me
to care for me
so I can blossom.
A seed that is waiting eternally
a seed that will never be fertilized
a seed that will never feel the warmth of the sun
or the dampness of the soil surround it.
A seed that will always be just a seed
a seed that will always be closed
a seed that will always be waiting.

But that’s okay.

Because out on the field I realise
I am multiple flowers at once.
I am not just one
and I’m not just the seed that is waiting
I am also the seed that is opening
growing through the soil
I am also the flower standing tall.

And as I lift my head up I see
I am in fact a whole flower field.
There are multiple versions of me.