There are moments when our souls speak to us through the act of writing - when the simple practice of putting pen to paper becomes an excavation of truth. This morning, thanks to the gentle push from an incredible friend, in the quiet space before the world fully awakened, I found myself pouring words onto a page, giving voice to a struggle I hadn't fully acknowledged: the gradual fragmenting of self across endless roles and responsibilities.
What emerged was both a confession and a cry for wholeness:
Fragments of Self
I leave myself no whitespace.
Filling every moment, every breath, every heartbeat with titles, jobs, labels, duties.
An endless collection of personas worn like armor against the fear of being not enough.
I wake to motherhood—
nagging, feeding, homework checks,
moving my most precious babies through their day, equipped with everything
except the memory of who their mother was before she became only mother.
The day unfolds in roles:
Taskmaster. Analyzer. Communicator.
Each one a piece of myself I've carved away,
offered up as proof that I am worthy,
that I am present, that I am needed.
Emails, so, so many emails, flood in.
I follow up (the professional word for nagging),
schedule work, put out fires,
update lists that never end—
my worth measured in tasks completed,
my unworthiness mirrored back in those left incomplete.
I dance through conversations,
narrowly avoiding the truth that wants to spill out:
that I am tired of being so many things
to so many people
while being nothing to myself.
And finally, when night falls,
after songs are sung,
after kisses are perfectly placed,
after nightlights are turned on and children tucked in,
I power down long before my head hits the pillow.
Turn on a screen, turn off myself,
escape into make-believe worlds
feeling a longing I can't define.
Where am I in this tapestry of titles?
Have I gone too far?
Broken myself down into too many labels
with too many objectives
until there's nothing left but objectives?
I want to feel free.
Want to wake with no agenda,
no urgency,
no guilt.
Just the pure light of being.
I want to see who I am in the whitespace.
Am I even there?
Or am I just Janet's limitless void,
containing everything while being nothing?
I've created my own horcruxes unwittingly,
leaving myself living a half-life.
It's not fair to me,
to those I've attached to
like anchors against the fear of floating away.
I want both—
to love my people, my passions
& love myself.
But it isn't about spa days or cleanses or yoga or habit stacking...
it's about something more ephemeral, more elusive.
It's coming back home
but not knowing where home is.
It's saying goodbye to say hello.
It's putting something undefined
before something concrete.
It's learning to trust
that my light doesn't dim
when I claim space for its glow.
That presence can be a gift
without becoming a sacrifice.
Through gentle exploration with a trusted guide, I began to understand the roots of this fragmentation. Years ago, a childhood message about selfishness became entangled with profound loss, teaching my young heart that presence equals love, and absence invites abandonment. I've been running ever since - spreading myself thinner and thinner across roles and responsibilities, trying to prove my worth through constant giving, constant doing.
But in the whitespace of my imagination, I saw something different - a vision of myself emanating golden light, unencumbered by roles or expectations. Just being. Just shining. This image speaks to a profound truth: beneath all these layers of obligation and fear, there exists a version of me that is luminous simply by existing.
The path forward revealed itself with surprising clarity. Small steps back to wholeness through daily practices that reconnect me with that inner light: one song, one dance, one journal entry at a time. Swimming, where water holds me in its embrace. Aerial silks, where I defy gravity and find freedom in flight. These aren't just activities - they're portals back to myself.
Today, I'll dance to P!nk's "Just Like Fire" - a declaration of my right to shine, to take up space, to be unapologetically myself. Each movement will be a step toward reclaiming the light I've hidden beneath layers of roles and responsibilities.
This journey isn't just about me. When we dare to shine our light, we give others permission to do the same. Perhaps this is the ultimate service - not the constant doing and giving that depletes us, but the courageous act of living authentically, showing others that it's safe to do the same.
In the end, maybe that's what all these roles and responsibilities were trying to teach me - that true value isn't found in what we do, but in who we are when we dare to be whole. It's time to gather all my scattered pieces, to hold them in the light of awareness, and begin the sacred journey home to myself.
The whitespace is waiting. And within it, so am I.
Comments