the scissors in my hands are not my own. i learned to cut from watching her - swift, clean breaks, relationships severed like threads. no mess, no loose ends, just empty spaces where people used to be. it was never spoken, but i watched and learned: this is how we keep ourselves safe. this is how we survive.
now i find myself reaching for those same scissors, hands moving with an instinct i didn't know lived in my bones. cut them off. cut them out. make the world smaller until it feels safe again. it's muscle memory, this ability to excise people, to demand others do the same. as if by making our world smaller, we can finally feel secure.
the worst part is seeing it from all sides at once - feeling the urge to cut while simultaneously watching someone else wield those same scissors. knowing exactly where this instinct comes from but being unable to put the scissors down. understanding the damage but still feeling that inherited twitch in my fingers: cut, cut, cut.
fears passed down like family heirlooms.
the scissors feel heavier now that i recognize them for what they are. but recognition doesn't make them disappear. they still sit in my hands, familiar and terrible, waiting for the next time fear convinces me that cutting away is the only path to safety. that making the world smaller is the only way to survive it.
i am my mother's daughter. i hold her scissors. and i don't know how to put them down.
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at this electric juncture in my life, i'm committing to 30 days of micro-essays (this is day 4!) – a variation of my earlier ‘50 days of writing’ from 2023. while most pieces will be personal reflections mapping this transformative period, others will explore and crystallize ideas surrounding my company. writing, after all, has always been my way of making sense of pivotal moments.
you can follow along in two ways: subscribe to this substack to receive each micro-essay as it's born, landing directly in your inbox. or, if you prefer a weekly rhythm, these pieces will find their way into my newsletter – a consolidated journey of the week's thoughts, revelations and musings. your choice, your rhythm.