\n
I am becoming real<\/strong><\/em>
\nAgain.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nOnce, when I was eleven, I went to a sixth grade dance and it was awkward and embarrassing and nobody knew what to say and everyone pretended they did and when I got home my little brother asked me how it was.<\/strong><\/em>
\nHe was nine<\/strong><\/em>
\nAnd I didn\u2019t know how to tell him how devastated I felt<\/strong><\/em>
\nI didn\u2019t want him to know that everyone has to pretend all the time and there\u2019s no way to actually connect with anyone <\/strong><\/em>
\nEver.<\/strong><\/em>
\nSo I gave him the Santa-Claus version of reality. I told him that it was really cool being in middle school because everyone danced however they wanted to and nobody judged anybody and it was <\/strong><\/em>
\nSo<\/strong><\/em>
\nMuch<\/strong><\/em>
\nFun.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nTwo years later, he called me on my lie. <\/strong><\/em>
\nHe\u2019d been to the dance and his eyes<\/strong><\/em>
\nBig<\/strong><\/em>
\nDark<\/strong><\/em>
\nSad<\/strong><\/em>
\nAccused me<\/strong><\/em>
\nAs if it was my fault that nobody knew how to be real anymore.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nYears before that, I knew how to be real. I felt what I felt and I needed what I needed and I knew what I wanted and I expressed these things as they came up. <\/strong><\/em>
\nI ate when I was hungry and slept when I was tired and when the urge to create something came to me I created<\/strong><\/em>
\nSomething<\/strong><\/em>
\nAnything<\/strong><\/em>
\nAnd showed my creations off <\/strong><\/em>
\nProudly<\/strong><\/em>
\nTo anyone.<\/strong><\/em>
\nI cried sadness and screamed panic and shouted anger and laughed giddy giggles in anticipation of joy<\/strong><\/em>
\nAnd when the joy came<\/strong><\/em>
\nI smiled <\/strong><\/em>
\nA real smile.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nIt was easy<\/strong><\/em>
\nLife flowed in and out with each breath and every moment was <\/strong><\/em>
\nJust <\/strong><\/em>
\nThat <\/strong><\/em>
\nMoment.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nI don\u2019t know when I forgot how to be real. <\/strong><\/em>
\nI could point to dozens of events<\/strong><\/em>
\nMemories that seem to stand in front of who I wanted to be, <\/strong><\/em>
\nWaving a finger<\/strong><\/em>
\nShaking a head<\/strong><\/em>
\nTelling me it was not okay to be the only thing I knew how to be.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nIt wasn\u2019t a flash of insight or a single shift<\/strong><\/em>
\nBut a thousand little twists and turns<\/strong><\/em>
\nAlways made with a goal of gaining something<\/strong><\/em>
\nThe most important thing<\/strong><\/em>
\nLove.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nSo I pretended to be what it seemed I was supposed to be<\/strong><\/em>
\nPretended the way others were pretending<\/strong><\/em>
\nPretended away all the feelings and needs and wants <\/strong><\/em>
\nUntil I forgot why I was pretending<\/strong><\/em>
\nAnd then<\/strong><\/em>
\nForgot I was pretending at all.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nI worked through hunger and worried through sleepless nights and smiled through sadness and clenched my teeth to hold the bitter anger back<\/strong><\/em>
\nAnd I didn\u2019t understand why it hurt <\/strong><\/em>
\nSo <\/strong><\/em>
\nMuch<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nI mean, my life was perfect. <\/strong><\/em>
\nRight?<\/strong><\/em>
\nI did all the things I was supposed to do and went to all the right places and kept all the ugly feelings locked away in secret boxes where no one could see them and bought things and collected things and had things and guarded things because they were MINE <\/strong><\/em>
\nAnd still it hurt <\/strong><\/em>
\nSo<\/strong><\/em>
\nMuch<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nAnd when the pain was so big<\/strong><\/em>
\nIt was seeping from my pores<\/strong><\/em>
\nWhen the pain was so big<\/strong><\/em>
\nThere seemed to be nothing else<\/strong><\/em>
\nWhen the pain was so big<\/strong><\/em>
\nI couldn’t stand it<\/strong><\/em>
\nFor one more breath<\/strong><\/em>
\nI asked<\/strong><\/em>
\n“Does anyone <\/strong><\/em>
\nEver<\/strong><\/em>
\nTalk about <\/strong><\/em>
\nAnything<\/strong><\/em>
\nReal?”<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nReal.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nDo you remember being real?<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nI am remembering<\/strong><\/em>
\nAnd remembering feels like a deep breath after a summer rain<\/strong><\/em>
\nAnd remembering feels like dark chocolate melting on my tongue<\/strong><\/em>
\nAnd remembering feels like a gentle kiss on my forehead<\/strong><\/em>
\nCheeks<\/strong><\/em>
\nLips<\/strong><\/em>
\nIt feels like the thing I most wanted <\/strong><\/em>
\nThe thing I worked so hard to get<\/strong><\/em>
\nThe thing we are ALL trying <\/strong><\/em>
\nSo<\/strong><\/em>
\nHard<\/strong><\/em>
\nto get<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nIt feels like love<\/strong><\/em>
\nBecause it is.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nLove isn\u2019t something you get from someone else.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nLove is what we are.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n
Thanks for reading!<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We Come From Love, We Are Made Of Love, We Are Love. Everything else is false.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Dear Friends, I have the privilege of hosting two Mindshifters Support Groups each week. These groups teach and support people in using some of the most productive tools I have ever encountered for improving the quality of my daily life. … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mo_disable_npp":"","_s2mail":"yes","ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-655","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.ch4cs.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/655","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.ch4cs.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.ch4cs.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.ch4cs.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.ch4cs.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=655"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blog.ch4cs.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/655\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":657,"href":"https:\/\/blog.ch4cs.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/655\/revisions\/657"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.ch4cs.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=655"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.ch4cs.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=655"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.ch4cs.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=655"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}