There are parts of my identity that I tucked away a long time ago, only I didn’t realize that is what I was doing at the time. Some parts were small and relatively insignificant, some not so much. Other parts I have not yet rediscovered. How much of who I am have I suppressed?
I have been living inauthentically for a very long time, to the point where I feel that I have lost a part of myself in certain aspects of my life. Wholly authentic people don’t hide who they are. I continue to work to understand why I do what I do. I kept some color out of my life and all of the places where my life touches others.
Of course, I am the one who suffers the most from my self-inflicted stifling. I overfilter to the point where my filter is nearly impermeable. Very little gets through. I have finally realized that when something is running through my mind on repeat, it needs attention. If I keep coming back to something, I’m not listening to myself.
Waiting myself out until I get bored or distracted and move on might be easy, but it isn’t fair and causes more problems in the long run. (I’m still in a bit of denial about this, but I know it’s true and we write what we need to read.)
I still withhold more than I offer, but I am slowly getting better at paying attention and listening to myself. However, after years or even decades of withholding and suppressing, I am as used to ignoring myself as I am to being ignored.
Being hard to read has become a source of pride. Unfortunately, I’ve gotten to the point where I have a hard time reading myself at times, and that’s a problem.
A warm energy is stirring from within. I feel like I’m waking up from a long hibernation. The urge of a big stretch is rolling down my spine.
I wish that waking up to this new season was easy and that I never instinctively reverted to the safety of my ingrained habits. Even changes for the better can be hard. As long as I give myself room to stretch, freedom to explore, and grace when I fall short, I will continue to grow.

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