For the First Time
For the first time in my life, I am happy and proud to be me. Yesterday I cried. Cried like a toddler in the grocery store, like my Grandpa when he accidentally ran over his beloved dog, just like I did when I finally turned my will and my life over to the care of God. I cried because for 30 years, I have lived the way I thought I should. I became whatever I thought others wanted me to be. Conformed to others' standards, and even worse, to my own unrealistic expectations. I cried yesterday because I've spent part of my life being anything but who I really am. A chameleon, ever changing, without an identity. I cried big, fat raindrop tears, so grateful for this knowledge, yet sad that I ever felt the need to be someone else.
I've heard that the only way to grow is to experience pain. I fully believe that we create our own misery. At least I do anyway. The need to be perfect has been my downfall. Perfection is an unachievable goal. I don't strive for perfection today, only progress.
I'm allowing myself room to be a human being. I need space to make mistakes coupled with the strength to love myself despite those mistakes. What happened yesterday can't be changed, but I can grow from it. I forgive myself. I'm only human after all.
Some days that is harder than others. I give my best every day. The reality is that my best looks different, depending on the day. Some days, I have nothing to give. Other days, my cup runneth over. I bask in the glory that today I can look myself in the eye, hold my head up high and love me for me.
I love pancakes!