Play & Book Excerpts
Everwoven
(Everwoven Press)
© Megan Margherio
From Chapter 1, The Inheritance
Little Me stops talking. I can tell she’s fighting back tears.
“Do you remember what it was like now?”
Her voice is sad and heavy.
I can tell it’s hard for her to go back to these feelings of inadequacy and rejection.
I wait to make sure she’s done speaking. Her eyes are locked on mine. She’s waiting for me.
“I remember.” I nod slowly. My lips curl downward.
“I know how carefully you walked the tightrope of our mother’s emotions. I hear you when you talk about having to erase yourself, little by little, to keep her comfortable. You worked so hard to never be a burden to her, but it didn’t work.”
Little Me breaks eye contact.
She shuffles her feet.
I continue, “I hear your quiet, aching hope that one day, she might love you differently. And I hear the silence she gave you instead.”
I bend down, grabbing Little Me’s hand.
She looks up at me, still blinking back tears.
“That feeling of being too much and never enough at the same time?
It’s still here.
It’s why I still second-guess myself. Even on the little stuff.
It’s why I hesitate before I speak, making sure my words don’t take
up
too
much
space.
It’s why I read a room before I let bigger parts of my personality show.
It’s why I still feel like if I am too much, I’ll be a problem—and if I do too little, I’ll be a disappointment.”
I shake my head and let out a deep sigh.
“I still feel it all, and I’m still undoing her lie.”
A tear slides down Little Me’s cheek.
I reach out, wiping it away.
She sniffs. Her little voice is barely above a whisper.
“If it’s a lie, why did she do it? Did she want me to feel that way? Did she want to hurt me?”
“Little Me, you were just a child who wanted to be seen, to be loved, to belong.
That is not a crime.
That is what is supposed to come with being in a family. It’s why you know it wasn’t okay. You knew you were supposed to be loved.
She just couldn’t give it to you.”
I pause, looking into her sad face. The brown freckles on her tiny nose. The scars on her brow. One from a dog bite. The other from a car accident.
“I don’t know if she wanted you to feel that way.
And the thing is, we don’t get to know.
That’s for her to carry, and it’s something she still refuses to face.”
I look into her heavy brown eyes. She looks right back at me.
“But it’s not your fault, Little Me.
You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Little Me starts to chew on her lip.
“Little Me, I need you to hear something. Something someone should have told you long ago.”
Her eyes widen slightly. Waiting. Almost fearful of what is coming next.
“You were never the problem.
You were never too much.
You were always enough.
Just because she couldn’t see it doesn’t make it any less true.”
She steps back slightly. Scans my face for the lie. Begins scratching at her thumbnails.
“Then why did you leave me? Why was I too much for you?”
I swallow. My throat is dry and scratchy.
“You were never too much for me, Little Me.
I didn’t feel like I was enough for you.
I was ashamed of myself for abandoning you, so I tried to pretend I hadn’t.
It was wrong.
And I am sorry.
You deserved better.”
Little Me pulls her hand back slightly. Her young face has skepticism written all over it.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth right now?”
“It’s okay if you don’t believe me yet, Little Me. I know I taught you that I would leave.
But this time is different.
I am strong enough to stand in the truth for both of us.”
Little Me crosses her arms. Her nose wrinkles as she studies me. Like she’s trying to decide if I’m safe. If I really mean it.
I keep my voice steady.
“I don’t know if you fully realize what you did that was so amazing, Little Me.”
She stares at me. She’s not used to compliments.
“Because you held onto love, I can love myself now.
Because you never let go of hope, I am standing here today.
Because you refused to let the world steal your light, I still have one inside of me.
You held onto what makes us magical.
You saved me without even realizing it.”
Little Me shifts uncomfortably, her hands twisting the hem of her shirt. I can tell I’m starting to make her uneasy with these truths about who she really is.
She sniffs again, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
Her voice is softer this time.
“How do I know you won’t leave again?”
I freeze.
She doesn’t ask with anger. She asks because she needs to know. Because she’s still bracing for me to disappear. Because I’ve done it before.
“Little Me, even when I couldn’t look at you, even when I pushed you away, even when I ignored you because I wasn’t strong enough to face you, you protected the best parts of me. And I owe you everything.”
She looks away only for a second before bringing her eyes back to meet mine.
“So, no, I won’t leave.
Not this time.
Not ever again.
Because even if the world never sees you for the magical human you are—I do.”
A tear slips from her jaw, falling onto her shoe.
I smile slightly. I reach for her hand.
“And here’s the thing: For the first time,
I love what I see.”
Little Me lets go of my hand.
And then she throws herself into my arms.
Her tiny body collapses against me. A flood of tears spills down her face as she clings to me.
Her breath is ragged. Her body shakes.
Like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. Like if she doesn’t hold on tight enough, I’ll slip back into the shadows.
I hug her close.
Rub her back.
“You’re going to be okay,” I whisper. “I’m here with you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Little Me stops talking. I can tell she’s fighting back tears.
“Do you remember what it was like now?”
Her voice is sad and heavy.
I can tell it’s hard for her to go back to these feelings of inadequacy and rejection.
I wait to make sure she’s done speaking. Her eyes are locked on mine. She’s waiting for me.
“I remember.” I nod slowly. My lips curl downward.
“I know how carefully you walked the tightrope of our mother’s emotions. I hear you when you talk about having to erase yourself, little by little, to keep her comfortable. You worked so hard to never be a burden to her, but it didn’t work.”
Little Me breaks eye contact.
She shuffles her feet.
I continue, “I hear your quiet, aching hope that one day, she might love you differently. And I hear the silence she gave you instead.”
I bend down, grabbing Little Me’s hand.
She looks up at me, still blinking back tears.
“That feeling of being too much and never enough at the same time?
It’s still here.
It’s why I still second-guess myself. Even on the little stuff.
It’s why I hesitate before I speak, making sure my words don’t take
up
too
much
space.
It’s why I read a room before I let bigger parts of my personality show.
It’s why I still feel like if I am too much, I’ll be a problem—and if I do too little, I’ll be a disappointment.”
I shake my head and let out a deep sigh.
“I still feel it all, and I’m still undoing her lie.”
A tear slides down Little Me’s cheek.
I reach out, wiping it away.
She sniffs. Her little voice is barely above a whisper.
“If it’s a lie, why did she do it? Did she want me to feel that way? Did she want to hurt me?”
“Little Me, you were just a child who wanted to be seen, to be loved, to belong.
That is not a crime.
That is what is supposed to come with being in a family. It’s why you know it wasn’t okay. You knew you were supposed to be loved.
She just couldn’t give it to you.”
I pause, looking into her sad face. The brown freckles on her tiny nose. The scars on her brow. One from a dog bite. The other from a car accident.
“I don’t know if she wanted you to feel that way.
And the thing is, we don’t get to know.
That’s for her to carry, and it’s something she still refuses to face.”
I look into her heavy brown eyes. She looks right back at me.
“But it’s not your fault, Little Me.
You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Little Me starts to chew on her lip.
“Little Me, I need you to hear something. Something someone should have told you long ago.”
Her eyes widen slightly. Waiting. Almost fearful of what is coming next.
“You were never the problem.
You were never too much.
You were always enough.
Just because she couldn’t see it doesn’t make it any less true.”
She steps back slightly. Scans my face for the lie. Begins scratching at her thumbnails.
“Then why did you leave me? Why was I too much for you?”
I swallow. My throat is dry and scratchy.
“You were never too much for me, Little Me.
I didn’t feel like I was enough for you.
I was ashamed of myself for abandoning you, so I tried to pretend I hadn’t.
It was wrong.
And I am sorry.
You deserved better.”
Little Me pulls her hand back slightly. Her young face has skepticism written all over it.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth right now?”
“It’s okay if you don’t believe me yet, Little Me. I know I taught you that I would leave.
But this time is different.
I am strong enough to stand in the truth for both of us.”
Little Me crosses her arms. Her nose wrinkles as she studies me. Like she’s trying to decide if I’m safe. If I really mean it.
I keep my voice steady.
“I don’t know if you fully realize what you did that was so amazing, Little Me.”
She stares at me. She’s not used to compliments.
“Because you held onto love, I can love myself now.
Because you never let go of hope, I am standing here today.
Because you refused to let the world steal your light, I still have one inside of me.
You held onto what makes us magical.
You saved me without even realizing it.”
Little Me shifts uncomfortably, her hands twisting the hem of her shirt. I can tell I’m starting to make her uneasy with these truths about who she really is.
She sniffs again, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
Her voice is softer this time.
“How do I know you won’t leave again?”
I freeze.
She doesn’t ask with anger. She asks because she needs to know. Because she’s still bracing for me to disappear. Because I’ve done it before.
“Little Me, even when I couldn’t look at you, even when I pushed you away, even when I ignored you because I wasn’t strong enough to face you, you protected the best parts of me. And I owe you everything.”
She looks away only for a second before bringing her eyes back to meet mine.
“So, no, I won’t leave.
Not this time.
Not ever again.
Because even if the world never sees you for the magical human you are—I do.”
A tear slips from her jaw, falling onto her shoe.
I smile slightly. I reach for her hand.
“And here’s the thing: For the first time,
I love what I see.”
Little Me lets go of my hand.
And then she throws herself into my arms.
Her tiny body collapses against me. A flood of tears spills down her face as she clings to me.
Her breath is ragged. Her body shakes.
Like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. Like if she doesn’t hold on tight enough, I’ll slip back into the shadows.
I hug her close.
Rub her back.
“You’re going to be okay,” I whisper. “I’m here with you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
|
Megan Margherio is a writer, speaker and trauma-informed embodiment coach whose work explores trauma recovery, estrangement, joy, and the long road back to self-trust.
Megan shares: “In Everwoven, I invite you into an intimate reckoning between my present self and the past selves I once abandoned; a raw, tender exploration of childhood trauma, abuse, survival, and the long, slow return to wholeness.” |
Megan Margherio
Photo Courtesy: Megan Margherio |
