We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be. The only problem is that there is also so much other stuff, typically fixations with how people perceive us, how to get more of the things that we think will make us happy, and with keeping our weight down. So the real issue is how do we gently stop being who we aren’t? How do we relieve ourselves of the false fronts of people-pleasing and affectation, the obsessive need for power and security, the backpack of old pain, and the psychic Spanx that keeps us smaller and contained?
Here’s how I became myself: mess, failure, mistakes, disappointments, and extensive reading; limbo, indecision, setbacks, addiction, public embarrassment, and endless conversations with my best women friends; the loss of people without whom I could not live, the loss of pets that left me reeling, dizzying betrayals but much greater loyalty, and overall, choosing as my motto William Blake’s line that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love.
Sitting at the park trying to make my face look less blotchy before I go back. I was thinking it has been awhile, but I was hoping it would stay away longer. I can’t help but think of that Billie Holiday song, at the end of which she says “Good morning heartache, sit down” just a weary resignation of how things are to be. I am emotionally bankrupt. My sisters attempts to text me hopeful messages just make me cry all the more. So it begins.
i hate when guys say shit like “why would you cut your hair? guys dont like girls with short hair” thats like watching someone else make a sandwich for their self and saying “why are you putting tomatoes in it? i dont like tomatoes”
“I still chain smoke cigarettes as if it is my profession. I should be promoted for the amount of nicotine that I have stored in my lungs.
I still write poetry about losing the ones I love. Even if I was the one who pushed them out of my life.
I still believe in God even after all of this chaos that has been unfolding upon his own creation. I still have hope in my heart while others have a gun in their hand.
I still play the mixed CD you made for me before you left. I’m still trying to figure out between guitar rifts and melancholy harmonies what you wanted me to hear. What you were trying to tell me all along but couldn’t find the words yourself.
I still write you letters even though we both know that I don’t have the courage to send to you. I’m still hoping that maybe the ink from the paper will appear on your skin and show you what I never could.
I still wake up with you on my mind, and the same goes for when I’m about to fall asleep at night.
I still miss you, still love you, still regret everything I did to keep you away for good.
But most of all, I still want you. And I don’t think that any amount of days, months or even years of realizing will ever be able to change my mindset when it comes to still always longing for your presence.”—"What still hasn’t changed," - Colleen Brown (via larmoyante)