A Sigh…The Period At The End Of My Thought
We all do it. Or rather don’t do it. We don’t always say what we think. You know what I’m talking about. We’re on the verge of saying something, but then we cover our thoughts with sighs and forced smiles.
We put on that façade because…sometimes it’s just easier. Easier to slip out of the conversation unnoticed. Explanations usually only complicate the situation, opening the door to more discussion and blatant exposure of our soul. We are called on to answer questions that sometimes catch us off guard, tricking us into revealing more than we had ever intended. With everything so transparent, we are up for scrutiny with emotional poking and prodding and curious interrogation.
So, instead we come up with pretty words, smoke-screen phrases, trick-of-the-light diversions that lead our companions down one alleyway, while we’re running like hell the down the other, looking for the nearest dumpster or empty doorway to hide in until the perceived threat passes.
Or maybe that’s just me.
Okay, so I tend to hide sometimes. Even when my heart screams yes, my mind slaps me upside the head and says, “Are you nuts? What are you thinking?” For years the tides of emotion in my house began and ended with me, and for some unknown reason, my emotions were law. Me. My emotions. As if I had any expertise in that field. Go figure.
So, to maintain a steady stream, I dubbed myself the dam keeper. And it became a way of life. But it doesn’t serve me anymore, and now I’m working on my letter of resignation.
As part of my “rehab,” I do let loose. There are playgrounds I let the Wild Child run amuck, giving only a brief show of concern when the Wild Child gets too…wild. But some neighborhoods are dark and silent, familiar, yet…not. I tend to explore those with a bit more caution, making sure each step is solid before moving on. But the Wild Child is always there, egging me to run through those streets barefoot. Some days she’s so much fun to follow, and I lose track of myself. Carefree one moment, waking up the next with such an emotional hangover, thinking…Yikes! Did I actually do that?
Ah, but we’re all works in progress, and I’m certainly no exception. I would even claim that none of us are the same as we were one, five, or ten years ago. Shedding behaviors that are counterproductive – just like ridding our closets of the clothes that don’t fit us well anymore – is key, and huge to our growth.
It may be hard to part with that comfortable pair of sweatpants, but, baby, if it doesn’t look good, if it’s worn out and tired looking? Yeah. Just give it to the Wild Child. She’ll know exactly what to do with it.