Ungiving Me: A Descent into the Cellar of Self

This reflection came about after a conversation with a Beautiful Soul, who said she wanted to reclaim her power and authenticity – For Her!

Where the forgotten parts of me whisper, waiting to be seen.

If I could ungive, I would ungive me –
the me I offered to survive.
The me who learned silence for safety.
The me who traded softness for control.

“If I could ungive, I would ungive me –
that me trapped in the cellar of my soul.”

There are pieces of me I buried down there.
Parts too tender to be trusted.
Feelings too fierce to be welcomed.
Truths too wild to be understood by the world I was raised in.

I descend now – slowly, deliberately – into the dim corners I abandoned.
And I find her.
The girl with fire in her ribs and tears she was told not to cry.
The woman who wanted more but settled, over and over again, for “enough.”
The soul who learned to hold her breath to make space for others.

“If I could ungive, I would ungive me –
this me trapped in the cellar of my unknown.”

There’s no map for this part.
Only echoes.
Only doorways I locked myself.
Only shadows that carry the shape of my own name.

But in the dark, I begin to see.
Not with my eyes – but with presence.
Not to fix – but to witness.

And in that witnessing, something softens.

I begin to ungive the masks, the stories, the survival scripts.
I begin to ungive the version of me created to protect.
And what remains…
is the pulse beneath the pain.
The still-beating heart.
The knowing that never left.

“If I could ungive, I would ungive me –
the me in defensive and resistant denial.”

But maybe I don’t need to undo her.
Maybe I only need to meet her –
in the cellar,
with a candle,
and my full attention.

Being Human