Just a Scratch

On unwinnable games, distance, and people who deserve your hugs.

“Who told you that you’re pretty? Hideous. You must eat less - see, those boots won’t zip up. You’re turning into a cow. Yet a slim cow is not a gazelle. Don’t starve yourself, that’s pointless. Why aren’t you eating?”

“You’re a smart one, not a pretty one. Not smart enough though. Because you’re nothing. You are nobody. You are an asset. Something to show off how good I DID. What are you crying about? It’s just a scratch. Well yeah, your mouth is full of blood, but it’s just a scratch. Shut the fuck up.”

“Yes, yes, go into your room and keep writing in your fucking little journal what a horrible person I am. Obviously, I’ve read it — as you don’t tell me shit. Why was that shit laying around here anyway? Well, now I do see what’s in that stupid head of yours.”

There. Was. No. Correct. Answer.

I kept doing my thing anyway.

If I could go back twenty-five years - just for a day, as an adult - I’d return with my hands covered in blood. I’d teach so many lessons. I’d show them what it is like to be the weaker one. I think that’s how it feels to protect your cub: this exact rage, except mine is for a little one who no longer exists and can’t be protected retroactively. That rage finds its way out, one teaspoon at a time. Non-violently, shall I add, as we are breaking the cycle here.

I do my best not to hate them. I genuinely do, and I believe I’ve succeeded. There’s plenty to be grateful for after all. Now I’m on another mission - not to feel like shit for keeping my distance. The reasoning is crystal clear, it’s all so valid, and in most ways I genuinely don’t give a fuck. But it’s never that easy with the bonds you didn’t choose. There’s always one more thing, and then one more after that.

So yeah. My experience tells me there are people who will tell you that you can’t make it, that you’re not good enough, whatever. Still, I know I won’t find any joy in “I told you so.” I’ll find it when I tell you “congratulations” and give you that hug. I don’t think we’re getting enough hugs.

So go give one to whoever’s nearest, and tell your humans you love them. If you’re lucky enough, you’ll find your tribe eventually - blood or no blood. Tell her she looks gorgeous, tell him he looks handsome, tell them that idea is fire. Cherish and encourage them while they’re here. None of us are here for that long.