Born to be.

Somewhere very early on in my life, I learned to decide, choose, live and believe based on what I was told was acceptable. One would argue that we all do. It's called childhood. At some point however, we are supposed to learn to build, choose and exist on our own terms. If we're supported in that, it becomes a simple transition. If we aren't? Then we find that truth over time and over pain, only if we are willing to at some point take the risk of being free. To live, choose and believe without the safety net of someone else's approval or authorization. To decide, it may not be cool/popular/convenient/expected/accepted for me to be this person...but this is who I am, nonetheless and I am good with that.  

Oh people say that all the time. But I wonder how many of us truly mean it. I wonder how many of us choose to live our lives in certain ways because it is expected of us. Because we fear someone will believe us inadequate, or in some way broken because what and who we are...doesn't match up with the expectations others have of us. I wonder how many of us make difficult and sometimes painful choices in the face of violent opposition, just because we feel somewhere within us that it is right, even though it is also mildly terrifying?

I also wonder how many of us cop out and then spend all of our energy fiercely denying that that is just what we have done? How much of our lives do we spend living our truth, as opposed to fiercely defending something like it?

Day over day, week over week and month over month, I wake from a mean sleep. It makes the sweet moments so much sweeter, but that also means subjecting myself to the sting of pain sans avoidance and convenient posturing. There is no pleasure without pain; there is no growth without pain. So, waking up means going back into the deepest darkest corner of life's closet and sticking your hand out to see what you meet. Odds are, the biggest monster you'll ever find is the one living in your imagination. Tell it to fuck off, and it will. But will you be willing to repair the space it has lived in for so long? It isn't always about what you're willing to tear down. It must also be about what you're willing to erect in it's place.  And rebuilding right is so often forsaken for rebuilding quickly.

"Be the person you were born to be."

That has been the biggest struggle for me. All of my life. Blame part of that on being the first born with an overzealous sense of responsibility. Not only will I accept my own blame, but I'll happily snatch up yours as well. Anything for compliance. For peace. For a quiet night and the hope for a good morning. I rerouted myself so many times for the well being of others, that I suppose going back to "home" felt like mission impossible. The scariest thing I've ever had to admit, was...

"I don't know who I was born to be anymore."

Fact is...I never lost her. I ignored the hell out of her. Muzzled her. Placed her in prison and let her out for good behavior once in awhile, when no one was looking. Dressed her up in someone else's outfits and called her by a cute little nickname. But...she was always still there. Quietly watching me. Wisely silent. Unspeakably patient. Waiting for me to cease the histrionics and return to her.

She's always a little lost in her own sauce. She is insatiably curious.  She believes in things she can't see or prove.  She has thoughts. Big ones, little ones, crazy ones and secret ones...and she will share them with you if you are so inclined to listen. She is a goof. A dreamer. Impossibly silly, easily amused and fascinated by the immeasurable beauty of the smallest of things.

She is two years old, squatting at the outer edges of a campsite, so distracted by the beauty of stones polished by years of agitation that she is undisturbed by her solitude. She is eating rocks, or trying her best to do so. She hears quiet whispers in a breeze, and she knows that she is safe. She knows peace is no more complicated than this.