As a child I
guess I was definitely fearless.
As I grew older
I learned that everything had conditions.
I believed that
in all things...if I did this right, If I got this result, If I finished this
task, If I performed this way, If I did this for her, if I achieved this
milestone, If I sacrificed, or delayed my own joy...
If, if if
....then eventually, everything would be alright.
If I did this
now I would have the space to do what I actually wanted later.
I’ve learned,
painfully ...that that’s not true.
That it all
comes with conditions...and sometimes, later never comes.
Thats okay.
Now.
For my heart to
be seen.
for my position
to be appreciated...
to be told or
more so to actively feel like I'm enough.
I've run hither
and yon, offered my time and energy.
"Do you
need this?
Trying to be
the solution, the superhero to others problems,
and NOTHING to
myself.
I feel Judged...and
judged again.
A disappointment,
unfulfilled promise.
She COULD have
been so amazing.
I wrapped this
package up so perfectly.
Dressed it just
so, presented it just the right way.
That maybe NO
one knows the real me - the scared, stressed, complicated, insecure,
searching...strong yes....but yearning to not have to be.
At almost the
half century point of my life, I’m actively deciding to not search for that
acceptance anymore.
Even more, I’m
teaching my own spirit that I AM enough.
My faith walk is private. I don’t want it judged
or assessed.
Outwardly I
guess im falling short in that area too, but it’s nobody's business but my own.
In spite of my
failures, regardless of my short comings, I'm deserving of a life of my own,
a life of my
choice.
I can not live
for anyone else.
The ones I
hoped would want to provide that reassurance believe me to be falling short.
Or I should
say, I've been found lacking.
I probably am.
I’m probably
not enough of anything for them.
Not needed in
the way I thought I would be...or should be.
I am Not
enough. I cannot recall having HEARD those words spoken to me.
That hurts.
But I cannot
change what is.
I'm not strong
enough to be vulnerable with them. And probably never will.
I cannot let
them see me cry.
There is a loss
in that. I love them...but they may never love me in a way that I can feel.
I mourn that
potential connection.
Maybe I created
that gap.
It’s possible. I’ll
rely on my maker to heal that wound if it can be.
Hiding my flaws
is hard work.
I seem to
be....so different from them. It feels like I speak a different language.
I had hoped
that different didn’t mean..alien.
It’s sad that I
feel like I must keep my defenses up.
Its like
screaming behind glass.
Yelling the
truth of who I am, who I want to be to them, for them…
but its
distorted, muffled.
Lost in
translation.
But then I remember,
Salvation is
personal.
