Getting back into the social media & blogging world has been inspiring. I read inspiring posts from amazing people. Miracles happen, people reach out, and things make me laugh hysterically as well as extremely relieved. I am allowing all these sensations to sink in, and bring me writing inspiration. I have all these wonderful ideas for posts & writing & recipes & blogging & oh my! But then doubt & cynicism kicks in and I get stuck. So I am taking the advice below by ignoring the inner critic and just writing. It’s all about practice. It’s all about finding my voice.
Source: thepipersson.tumblr.com via Ruby on Pinterest
In the two weeks before Christmas, as well as the week after, I had a tough time. Things – people – I had always been certain of to be able to count on them, suddenly got up-ended. It felt like the rug was pulled from under my feet. It left me gasping for breath. Every day brought new developments, and almost every night had me crawling into bed with puffy eyes & red cheeks from crying.
It sucked BIG TIME.
One of the theories I learned about reality & identity is that we, as human beings, will try to maintain our vision of who we are and the world around us for as long as possible, even in the face of clear evidence to the opposite. This is because we cannot function properly if our identity or our grounded beliefs were to constantly change. Just like we most likely would not be able to function if we really, really knew of all the dangers & risks that were out there.
So when this all went down I felt like I had been beaten to a pulp. I was unsteady on my feet, unsteady in my mind. I felt a rift between who I thought I was and who other people think I am. I knew that I had to choose between the two sides, the two personalities. Each choice had it’s perks & drawbacks. Big drawbacks.
I chose me. I knew it was the right choice. Once I had decided to do so, the world shifted again. My vision cleared up. I could hear what other people were telling me about myself. Compliments. Admiration. Inspiration. Good things. I suddenly understood how important I am. To others, and especially to my little family. I had been rejecting all these good things in an off-hand manner. It’s not such a big deal. Anyone could do this. I’m nothing special.
With the relief of acknowledging myself as someone special, someone worth knowing, someone worth fighting for, also came sadness. Sadness that I had not been able to see this in myself. Sadness for the withholding of love I would often punish myself with. Sadness that I could not sooner choose me.
Out of the sadness also came hope. And love. And freedom. Love, in the shape of warm, earnest concern & acceptance & support from others around me. Support I had not been able to ask for, either through lack of words or lack of faith. Freedom in knowing that a person’s story is never finished. We are never done. You can reinvent yourself as often as you like. You can change, or stay the same.
All choices have consequences, but that is no reason not to choose at all.
This is a lovely post – and very true.
[...] high, it leaves me frustrated and perpetually disappointed in myself. And I’d just decided not to get so down on myself like [...]