Ancient Mothers,
I thank you for your protection and healing. I thank you for your guidance. I thank you for your love and fierceness.
Today, Ancient Ones, I am tired. I have been worn down to a nub, trying to be the good daughter, devoted sister, committed girlfriend, the dream wife, and all in between. I am tired. I am burning my candle at both ends, and nobody seems to care that I’m coming up short for my own damn self. I am weary. I want this weight of heartbreak and abandonment off my chest. I want it all back: the devotion I gave, the allowances, the permissions, the “it’s not that deep” when it absolutely was… all that shit. I want my shit back, ten thousand fold.
Ancient Beloved, I want my resources returned to me: my time, my love, my tenderness, and everything else I gave, had snatched, or had siphoned away from me. I want my Sunday morning cuddles and sweet songs given back. I demand sincerity, devotion, care, and ease returned to me with the speed and strength of a whirlwind. I want things I never knew were missing. I want my truth accepted and respected, instead of dismissed and minimized. I want uplift, not a flimsy pedestal from which I can be toppled for saying no to some untenable fuckshit.
Ancient Mothers, I need rest and solace. I need shelter from the demands of the world while I hunker down and attend to myself. I ask humbly for your guidance as you bless me to build this soft place for myself. I ask for my tears to cleanse me, for my cries to free me. I ask for my softness to envelop me as I heal. I ask for love to rain on me, to fall into the driest and most forlorn places within me. I ask, above all, that my healing be thorough and deep. I pray that the ugliest, most broken and useless remnants of my past self be released to the wind.
I pray in my own name. Amen. So mote it be.