2025: Martina

If I was an egg...

I would be porous- all the good soaking in but the bad also penetrating the shell. Multi-layered. A strong shell with a soft centre.

When I met you I was strong. Strong in mind. Strong in body. I had birthed my child three and a half years prior. I had left a poor relationship choice and worked through that mistake and came out stronger, and, I thought, wiser. I was single parenting, studying, working and volunteering. I met you through a “friend”.

You were strong too. Larger than life. The extra-large egg in the carton. You made me believe you were my golden egg. Educated; Funny; Financially stable; Independent. But you were a BAD egg.

You cared all about appearances, but, behind the golden exterior, the egg was rotting- slowly but surely. No-one but me could smell the stench. In the meantime, my shell went from hard and strong to weak, cracked, bloody and bumpy on the outside and watery on the inside but with a tiny, fertilised embryo, clinging to life within, despite the fractures.

As the years, yes, years... went on, the way your toxicity infiltrated my life and that of my son’s, slowly eroded my self-esteem. My emotional and physical health and my financial independence took a hit. I was constantly walking on eggshells.

When hope found me and discovered the cracks in my shell and persisted in infiltrating the multiple layers of my fear, distrust, insecurity and self-loathing, the light gently filtered through. Hope held me. She heard me and believed me. She showed me my worth and reminded me I AM ENOUGH! Hope repaired my broken shell with gold, like the Japanese art of kintsugi. Hope polished me and wrapped her strong yet gentle arms around me, recognised the strength within me and nourished that embryo to grow into a new life. To flourish. To share her story, fight through her fears and come to a place of re-birth.