Is this what it looks like?
The unravelling?
The threads I thought held me together
slowly pulled at
one by one.
With a twist and a tug,
busyness,
gets stripped away,
and underneath
duty and guilt,
are knotted about me.
They too are untangled
revealing
shame
and perfection.
The unravelling
is disorienting.
As the threads unwind
I am spun around,
no longer sure which way is up
nor down.
The unravelling
is revealing.
I am vulnerable,
no longer covered by that
which made me useful,
that which made me matter
in this world.
Yet the unravelling is
somehow
freeing.
I shake off the threads,
that cling
though no longer
entangle.
And I see
it’s okay
to just
be.
Jodie McCarthy