Gahhhhh! So I am still figuring this whole blog site business out, and I just lost all the work from my pending post. I am a complete cheeze-it! I am going to try to recall the bits of what I wrote, and so please bear with me here.
Yesterday was a really strange day for me. I just sort of felt different- in a good way. I started my day by working myself up off the bed and into the kitchen to make a good cup of joe. My mind ran wild… I will write today! And I did. Armed with coffee, I sat down at my desk adorned with random photographs and books, and I wrote my first post. Yay me!
It amazes me that I have not written more- that I have not written every single day of my life. There is always so much clutter filling the confines of my crazy whacked out brain- I need to get it out. I care too much- I worry too much. YADDA. YADDA. YADDA.I must write.
I am in a transition and I feel it. I am working to start being more authentic- more “me” if you will. I have always admired those that are unapologetically themselves. You know- all “fuck you, world!” Those people inspire me. Those creative, wild, fearless folks- I want to be just like that.
I used to be- you know I think we all are at first. As infants and young children, we do not yet know of the fearful things in this world. We have not yet had our fragile hearts torn from our chests or had words, like knives, pierce to destroy our very core…
That’s when it stopped for me. The whole really living my life thing. He told me I was ugly. Then she did. Then again and again. I would walk down the hallways of my high school and over and over. UGLY. She is so UGLY. And then one day it became- I AM UGLY.
And then I stopped truly living.
I hid myself away. Anything to make myself unnoticed. Anything to just be left alone. Anything to just have silence and to not be seen.
I started to want to always be alone. When I was alone, no one could hurt me there. I was safe.
That was a dark time. God’s grace got me through it, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t mighty scarred. It sure is true when they say it is easier to believe the bad stuff people say about you. Even now, so many years have passed, and I still look in the mirror and have to fight those words. I can hear that I am beautiful all day long, and yet somehow, it is so hard to believe.
I am still a mess from what those people said to me- but at least now I am learning that I am a beautiful mess, and I am okay with that.