As I walk this journey of becoming my truest self, I often find myself caught between the past and the future. Both exert a pull on me, shaping my thoughts, emotions, and sense of who I am. They aren’t opposites as much as they are two halves of the same whole—a complex, evolving story that is my life.
The past holds so much: memories of who I was, who I tried to be, and who the world expected me to be. I reflect on my childhood, those moments when something felt off but I didn’t have the words to express it. Back then, I didn’t understand why certain clothes felt like costumes or why the mirror sometimes showed someone I didn’t quite recognize. I carried those questions, often burying them deep to survive, blend in, and avoid the questions I couldn’t answer.
But the past is also where shadows linger—shadows I can’t always escape. Abuse has a way of searing itself into memory, leaving scars that aren’t always visible but are always felt. I think about the times I was made to feel small, worthless, or broken because I couldn’t meet others’ expectations. Words that cut deeper than they should have. Actions that took more than they had a right to. Sometimes, I wonder how much of the abuse was tied to who I truly am—if they somehow saw Ava peeking through the cracks and sought to crush her before she could bloom.
Child abuse, coupled with living in a closet for decades, casts a complex shadow over my past.
That pain haunts me. It sneaks into quiet moments, bringing self-doubt and fear with it. There are days when I struggle to believe I deserve the happiness I’m chasing because those old voices echo in my mind. But I’m learning to silence them. I’m learning that the abuse says more about them than it ever did about me. I survived, and that survival is proof of my strength.
The past isn’t all darkness, though. It also holds moments of joy and clarity. When I look back now, I see the seeds of Ava in everything—from the way I gravitated toward music that felt freeing and bold to the way I admired strong, vibrant people who blurred lines and defied conventions. The past reminds me that Ava was always there, even if she was waiting for me to find her.
And then there’s the future, which calls to me like a song I’ve just begun to learn. It’s filled with questions, but they’re exciting ones. What will my life look like as I continue to live authentically? Who will I become as Ava takes root and flourishes?
Although the abuse and living a closeted life may have influenced parts of my past, it does not dictate my future. The future is mine to create—filled with hope, freedom, and the unwavering truth of who I am. Ava is here, fully engaged in this moment, shaped by the past but not constrained by it.
Leave a Reply