With the new year just around the corner, I have made myself a promise that 2020 is the year I become real. I have hidden my true self for so many years, afraid of the judgment of others. I know that I am not alone in this feeling. Many people feel, as I do, that I often find myself doing what seems like ‘earning my right to live.’
For someone who grew up in a very dysfunctional family, you learn early on that you must perform well to be loved. You must be perfect and excel at all the things you try. As a soon to be a 65-year-old woman with an inner child that is still in tremendous pain, it has only just occurred to me recently that I still find myself trying to earn my right to live. What a damn sad state to be in!
When the truth is, we don’t have to earn shit. As the poem Desiderata states unequivocally, no less than the trees and the stars, you have a right to be here. Well, my time of trying to earn my right to live is ending, folks. I hope yours is too. This new idea of freedom brought along with it the decision to start being totally honest and vulnerable, to open my closed-up heart.
I am going to be using this blog as a sort of journal, sharing my thoughts and feelings on my life and on how writing has and continues to heal me. I welcome your input, your own feelings, and suggestions.