But now I lie...

I realized something monumental in my road to "self healing"... my road to being free of my failures and shame and disappointments.

If I spent half as much energy as I do trying to change myself so that I might appear average.. normal.. socially acceptable and unremarkable~
If I spent that energy, actually loving who I am instead of trying to change myself for everyone else .. I might be so much happier.

I have squashed who I am so as to never draw any attention, I  just want to blend into the background~ please just let me go on my way unscathed.. But I feel so trapped. So much~ like I have tried to conform and hide. Like maybe people won't accept me as I am, broken .. but also strong, imperfect. Because I am not perfect.. I am not without opinions and deep feelings.. I have these things that I pretend I do not have..

Which leaves me to wonder.. who am I?

I am a little dark.. That is a bi-product of experience..

I am hopeful .. which is a result of my faith in God and my love for Jesus~ who was a beautiful human being, I don't care who you are.. it's undeniable.

I am extremely sensitive to other's plight.. which is a result of being hyper sensitive.

I love animals and I am continuously amazed by how much better they are than us.. that is a result of exposure to .."civilized" society. I have some opinions on what is considered civilized.~

I like the color pink, and dark painful music. I like being alone~ but I crave friendship. I am a 7 years clean recovered drug addict, and I am a wife and a mother. I am terrified of the power I have over my children's lives.. because my own parents hurt me with that power..

I have nightmares, and panic attacks.. I am angry.. but I love so much, I feel so deeply.. I am loyal.

I used to write. I used to be free with my expression.
But now I lie.
I pretend I am okay, I hide what I think, how I feel.. I stuff the words back into my subconciousness.. I don't want anyone to know me, to hear who I am... I don't want to be judged or seen. Because God knows, sometimes the wrong person sees you.
But how I miss the flow of words. Some people think words are nothing.. meaningless.. but to me, words are beautiful and powerful. How I miss that they used to come to me and flow from my pen.. I would wake in the night with the need to write.. and now~ silence. Now I wake in cold sweat and fear.

Do I learn to love the silence? Or do I look for myself;
Me, who is somewhere in here~ hiding.. lost.. ?
Me, who is afraid to be seen. I don't even want to see what is left of me when everything beautiful and safe and comfortable has been ripped out of my inner being..
What could possibly be left?
And how do I learn to love it?



~cdp