I was raised in fear. Being so much immersed in it, it seemed normal, this constant high level of stress. Some part of me probably knew it wasn’t all that normal or even good because I kept being drawn to spacious slow music, to candlelight, people who were soft-spoken and generally everything that seemed to promise a different life. But these kinds of things are just a drop in the ocean of fear, which used to be my life.
I did not know better. I was raised in fear. And at the same time, there was always the story in my head, the hope of love in my heart, of a love so big, it can transform everything. But for a few decades, this kind of love was not accessible to me. Sure, drip drip drip, small bits here and there, but not the big constant flow of love, that I would have needed to get out of this feeling of constantly being on the run (even in the most comfy PJs on the sofa).