Reflection over my life so far, I’ve learned to run after a positive mindset. Greatly wanting to live this way, but always battling with it. I can give kudos and be outwardly uplifting with an abundance of encouragement, for you. This is who I am. This is what I do. But what about me? Where is that self care and love component to gift myself?
They tell me self forgiveness and acceptance is how I will achieve this. Then I go down the rabbit hole where the misery lives. It’s dark and damp, with cobwebs and it kind of smells like death. I don’t purposely fall down in there. I do allow others to trample my heart and that’s when I find myself climbing out yet again.
So far spending time getting reacquainted with me has been both enlightening and disappointing at the same time. Regret is not a common word in my vocabulary. I’ve enough emotional recovery and healing to understand the positive influence every experience has had on my spirit. Then I tend to combat it with a negative connotation because this is how I have been conditioned. Trained out of deserving peace and comfort, even joy. At least on a more often than not basis. That can be debilitating and quite depressing.
I’ve come to dislike those positive memes. Don’t send me the rainbows and unicorns with puppies and kitties telling me to have a bright sun shiny day. Those don’t resonate with me. I need to know that I’ve walked through some hard fucking shit and I am a survivor. In other words, remind me how far I’ve come and that I am ok!
I know this too shall pass and all the other quirky slogans I’ve learned and implemented into my everyday living, but most days I simply need to just be authentically me. A craft I have yet to perfect and likely never will, but my ultimate goal… to be comfortable in my own damn skin. Finding that balance between my own satisfaction and happiness while participating in this event called life. Is it always going to be a chore or will I wake up one day and everything will magically just smooth out? I highly doubt that and I am curious to know the antidote. Meanwhile I will just keep on keeping on, loving you with my whole heart as I work to gift this to myself.
She asked, “is that from a song, or the name of one?” I smiled and only nodded, but when I said it, I was lost in thought. Confused by my lack of response, she ventured off in the other room, allowing me to be alone with my previous thoughts. There was something to be said for secrecy.
When I was a child, my best friend and I always seemed to have a secret to tell. We made a game out of whispering something in the others ear and then swearing that to secrecy as if someone’s life depended on it. Our pinkies crossed, we spit in our palms and shook as we saw the boys do. There, now we have a solid promise with double insurance.
What on earth did a couple of 8 year old little girls have to keep so private? I guess it was the first act of many that would prove the other trustworthy. It wasn’t that those secrets were so deadly, offensive or of trouble, but there was something in the process of swearing to God, the famous pinky promise and the disgusting exchange of slimy palms that just made it all so pensive.
Did we ever go back on our word? We shared a lot of those so called secrets over the years and I don’t recall any repercussions like my hand falling off, or my skin peeling away and we are still friends to this day, so I guess we shall never know, but can safely assume we did abide by that strict code.
I flash forward back to this present day and forget about the lyrics to that old song as I retrace those memories and wonder where they came from. What ignited the buried remembrances and why? Again I murmured under my breath this time, dirty little secrets, hoping to find the thread and rip it out.
My mind took control and before I knew it, together we were recapturing or more like trapping, the images that were replaying in my head. What do you want, I asked as if they had the ability to answer, but I waited nonetheless. No answer came and I was forced to watch what felt like a movie of my life playing only I wasn’t the star. Suddenly it had become clear what the fuck was going on.
I’ve lived a life this long and the story is so far from over yet for all this time, I have not been the leading lady starring in my own life. I got it, the message was clear. I am beginning to feel the cuffs are loosening, the chains are breaking and the bondage is slowly being freed…