My Place to Run To

 

My Place to Run To

I grew up under the long shadow

of "approval needed",

that silent rule no one wrote down

But everyone seemed to know.

So I learned to chase gold stars

like they were oxygen,

learned to read a room

before I ever learned to read myself.

But there were bright spots.

Teachers who looked at me

and saw something worth naming.

They sometimes called me "smart."

And for a moment, the clouds thinned.

Preachers, now and then,

said something that made me feel

like I wasn’t invisible.

Later, colleagues nodded at my work

as if it mattered,

And for a while, that was enough.

Then life shifted, as it always does.

My workplaces changed, faces changed,

and approval became a scarcer commodity.

Some days I was running on empty,

waiting for someone to say

“You’re doing fine.”

But hearing only silence.

So I made myself a place to run to.

In my mind, I go back

to those teachers who believed in me,

Before I knew how to believe in myself.

I run back to the sermons

that sometimes earned applause

and reminded me I had a voice.

I flee to my music, my old-school tunes,

my guitar vibrating against my chest,

The songs rising up like childhood friends,

I can see church people grinning, singing along,

joining in something bigger than doubts,

Hope and faith put to song.

Those are my places I run to.

These are my reminders that I’ve been seen,

I've been heard, and I am valued.

It's my reassurance that I’ve built a life

with moments worth returning to.

From my getaway place, I come away stronger,

ready to move forward,

without waiting for permission

to be proud of who I am.