I made a mistake one day.
Well, more than one. Probably I can’t remember the first step on this particular trail, it was so small. Maybe it was deciding to go on a mission. Maybe choosing to pray and ask a false god whether a charlatan’s book was true. Or trusting the adults in my life over my instinct to run, get away, go to college, start my life.
Maybe it was knowing my mission was a mistake, then confiding that to the architect of my personal hell. Maybe if I had left, even then, I could have avoided the worst of what was yet to come.
Maybe it was taking in the repeated words and deeds of decades that told me I was worth less than dirt, and if I wasn’t making myself ill in service to God, then I wasn’t doing it right.
Maybe it was not listening to my inner voice plead for me to just listen, recognize the situation for what it was, instead of casting aside the only compass worth a damn.
Or, it could have been giving my heart to someone who immediately held a dagger to it, the blade digging into me until I was unable to even recognize the significance of my words when I told my therapist I’d be all right if she died, I’d be relieved.
It could easily have been when I prayed to know whether it was time to have a child, because if any one decision sealed my path, it was this.
So yes, I made a mistake one day. Probably more than one. I know that my path was mine to choose, and I chose what I had been taught was right, and good, and would lead me to joy.
But I was wrong.
Now I break free of that path, of those choices, desperate to get away. I carry the small child I created in my arms as we navigate a dense, unknown jungle. But They know where she is, those who seek to turn her inward, selfish, spiteful, hateful, just like Them. She know the path They want her to walk. She imitates Them, scratching and biting, screaming, as desperate to go back as I am to break free, fearful that I won’t follow her if she does.
I won’t follow.
I made a mistake one day. More than one; I made dozens, hundreds, thousands, each one glimmering with tarnished trust, false hope, and stolen time. But I’m done making those mistakes, living that life, walking that path. I’m done. I won’t do it any more.
I own my choices, and I embrace the difficult road through vines and brambles I now face. Every step, every act, every cut through their tangled grasp is one more gasping stroke closer to true joy, free from the mistakes I made before.
Never again will I serve a false god.
Never again will I allow myself to be abused.
Never again will I give my enemies that which I treasure.
I am free. And this child is coming with me, until she chooses her own path, makes her own mistakes. I helped bring her into this world, cared for her, loved her, held her in my arms, sheltered her in the darkest night. I sang to her, rocked her, and kept her from harm. I will not leave her to the wolves, and I will teach her to fight against abuse so she can stand on her own one day.
I am resolved, and I am fierce. I do not wait. I leave my past, once and for all, and I bring the child who bears the weight of all my mistakes within her soul. The past fades behind, and the new trail opens before us.
New trails. True love. Joy found in the simplest flower. A tender kiss, and I know the way forward.
And I never look back.
I made a mistake one day.
But it is not this day.
Hi, I'm Lindsay Wardell!
I am a programmer, writer, and mother. I work as a Senior Software
Engineer at Mangomint. I write and talk about Elm, Vue, Vite, and other tools that I
enjoy learning about and using.