Wednesday, August 5, 2015

It might almost be time.

Though it might seem like it from the outside, that it might seem like I share so much about myself and my life, in reality there is a lot I choose to hide.

Some of it purely for privacy reasons, some for the protection of people I love. 

Some to protect myself.

Some because I know that if I open up that part of my soul, I might never get a handle on it again. If I set what is in there free, if I let it out, I might never be able to contain it.

Some of those stories were revisited yesterday in the confines of my mind.

There are things that happened in my life, awful things, where I know in my heart and in my soul that I did the best I could.

It wasn't enough.

Not because I failed, but because it never could have been enough.

I could have never been enough.

I tried.

I know all that in the parts of my brain that are rational and reasoned.

It's the parts of my brain that are hurt and sad, where the little girl who wasn't good enough resides, where the one who was blamed and discarded lives. Those parts, they are trying to wield their power over me.

They are trying.

I won't let them win.

This isn't on me. It never was.

There is a book that I've outlined, that I've worked on when I have been able, that I've largely avoided writing for too long for fear of what other people would say.

It might almost be time.

I have some things I need to do first, but it might almost be time.

There's a quote that resonates so much with me when it comes to all this, one that I have to remind myself to read every so often.

“You own everything that has happened to you. 
Tell your stories. 
If people wanted you to write warmly about them, 
they should have treated you better.”
~Anne Lamott

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