Fragments of Cassandra

There is a version of me
that I am constantly chasing.

Not because she is better than me.
Because I know she is possible.
I have seen her before.

In the days I kept my promises.
In the moments I was brave.
In the rare mornings
when my mind was quiet enough
to remember what hope feels like.

And maybe that is why this hurts.

Because every night,
I am reminded of the distance
between who I am
and who I could be.

Lately, I have called it overwhelm.

I have called it exhaustion.
I have called it bad timing.

But beneath all of those names
is a truth I am finally willing to face:

I am afraid.

Afraid that all the potential
I feel inside me
is nothing more than a story I tell myself.

Afraid that one day
I will run out of excuses
and be forced to answer the question:

"Am I really capable of becoming
the person I dream about?"

That question has followed me everywhere.

It sits beside unfinished goals.

It lingers in the moments when I choose comfort over the things I claim to want.

And when I listen too closely, it convinces me
that I am unworthy.

Unworthy of love.
Unworthy of rest.
Unworthy of success.
Unworthy of happiness.

So I stay disappointed in myself.

I convince myself
that self-criticism is discipline.

That discomfort is growth.

That if I push hard enough,
judge harshly enough,
eventually I will become someone I am proud of.

But this month,
I realized something.

You cannot hate yourself
into becoming someone you love.

And maybe that is why
I have felt so numb.

Because beneath the numbness
is sadness.

Confusion.

The grief of realizing
how long I have been
at war with myself.

Still,
this cycle was not without growth.

I remained here.
I accepted that something needs to change.
I became more introspective.
I stepped outside my comfort zone.
I welcomed my best friend
back into my life.

And for the first time,
I truly began healing
from wounds I spent years avoiding.

So tonight,
beneath this full moon,

I release the belief
that suffering makes me worthy.
I release the idea
that shame will transform me.
I release the fear
that peace will make me stagnant.

And instead,
I call in discipline.

Not as punishment,
but as self-respect.

I call in courage.
I call in inspiration.
I call in peace.
I call in excitement
for the person I am becoming.

Because maybe the version of me
I have been chasing
is not waiting somewhere ahead.

Maybe she has been here all along.

Quietly waiting
for me to stop measuring my worth
by my failures

and start measuring it
by my willingness
to keep becoming.


Be’ahava,
Cassandra

Thank you to the two beautiful souls that sat with me while I celebrated my first full moon ritual tonight