I don't think you know what I feel...
My best friend told me today that in order to be a better blogger, I need to quit censoring so much of what I write. I need to quit filtering what I write, waiting for the moment of optimum word choice in order to write a meaningful post. I think that, on many levels, she is right.
I have spent my entire life censoring. My words, my actions, my views, my self. I need to learn to put myself out there and not be afraid of the consequences. I envy that she can already do that. She says what she feels, unapologetically, and doesn't ever seem to worry what her readers or friends will think of what she says. I don't want to put words into her mouth, but I'm sure she really cares, but cares that people understand the real her even more. I wish I could be that audacious in my life.
Everything I do is measured. I think before I act, most of the time before I speak, and most often before I feel. Anything. It's enough to turn a person inside out, honestly. My childhood was spent learning to do what appeases, not what I truly feel. I understand that more now, and I understand that because of it, I have never been truly certain of myself. Of who I am and what I can be. Always worrying about whether what I say or do will bring me grief from those who supposedly love me has made me into an anxious, guilt-ridden human being. I hate that about myself more than anything else I can imagine. More than the physical weight I carry, more than my fair share of insecurities, more than any of the things of which I am sure about myself.
I think for a long time, I was so out of control simply because I could be. I was rebelling. Not only from a family, husband, and life that had been so repressive for so long, but essentially from myself. Once I finally came to a place in my adult life where I could step outside the framework of anything related to my past life, I grew wild. The idea of freedom so reverberated through me that I just could stand nothing less than to be completely what I wanted and to be the most hedonistic sense of myself I could be. But I've learned that it wasn't freedom I necessarily wanted. It was balance.
It still is. I need it. I crave it. I think that is why I married Toby. He exudes the type of stability and balance I have always longed for, but have never been able to achieve. He is also so completely self-assured and I envy that. It comes from a lifetime of having people support your every move and encourage you over and over. I desperately want that. But at the same time, I am very afraid of it should I finally catch it.
I am a ball of emotion and anxiety. Someday, I want to be free of this grasp over me that so many people have always had. I know that I am getting closer to finding myself in this labyrinth. Every year, month, day, moment... I come closer to breaking free and shouting myself down from the heavens.
Flowery language though it may be, words are what I have. I intend to free myself with them.
I have spent my entire life censoring. My words, my actions, my views, my self. I need to learn to put myself out there and not be afraid of the consequences. I envy that she can already do that. She says what she feels, unapologetically, and doesn't ever seem to worry what her readers or friends will think of what she says. I don't want to put words into her mouth, but I'm sure she really cares, but cares that people understand the real her even more. I wish I could be that audacious in my life.
Everything I do is measured. I think before I act, most of the time before I speak, and most often before I feel. Anything. It's enough to turn a person inside out, honestly. My childhood was spent learning to do what appeases, not what I truly feel. I understand that more now, and I understand that because of it, I have never been truly certain of myself. Of who I am and what I can be. Always worrying about whether what I say or do will bring me grief from those who supposedly love me has made me into an anxious, guilt-ridden human being. I hate that about myself more than anything else I can imagine. More than the physical weight I carry, more than my fair share of insecurities, more than any of the things of which I am sure about myself.
I think for a long time, I was so out of control simply because I could be. I was rebelling. Not only from a family, husband, and life that had been so repressive for so long, but essentially from myself. Once I finally came to a place in my adult life where I could step outside the framework of anything related to my past life, I grew wild. The idea of freedom so reverberated through me that I just could stand nothing less than to be completely what I wanted and to be the most hedonistic sense of myself I could be. But I've learned that it wasn't freedom I necessarily wanted. It was balance.
It still is. I need it. I crave it. I think that is why I married Toby. He exudes the type of stability and balance I have always longed for, but have never been able to achieve. He is also so completely self-assured and I envy that. It comes from a lifetime of having people support your every move and encourage you over and over. I desperately want that. But at the same time, I am very afraid of it should I finally catch it.
I am a ball of emotion and anxiety. Someday, I want to be free of this grasp over me that so many people have always had. I know that I am getting closer to finding myself in this labyrinth. Every year, month, day, moment... I come closer to breaking free and shouting myself down from the heavens.
Flowery language though it may be, words are what I have. I intend to free myself with them.
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