I spent a great deal of my life making sure everyone knew I was fine. Everything was great.
Don worry abaout-et.
I got hit by a car when I was six because I wasn’t paying attention outside of the church my family and I sometimes went to (for ten minutes or so before midnight mass on Easter—for the cheap thrills of fireworks and that cool candle lighting ceremony that happens). Except this time I was alone and I was walking home. My leg was bleeding, it wasn’t that serious, but the dude that worked at the church was very concerned. The only thing I said to him was “don’t tell my parents about this” and I treated him like he had done something wrong.
I was angry.
Not that I got hit by a car, but because I was seen getting hit by a car. And I wanted to make sure no one else found out about it.
Especially my parents.
This was my nature. I did this with everything you could possibly ever think of. I was such an angry child and it seemed with each person I came into contact with through the years my anger grew greater and more vicious. You always hear about how people try to be courageous or brave and try to mask their insecurities and fears, never knowing that what’s braver and more courageous is the act of expressing and losing sight of consequence.
For example, here are a few things that I got scared of:
Stagnancy and complacency, interacting with someone who refuses to like me (an uncommon occurrence really), that the people I love will get hurt, that I will end up alone and unloved. Expressing that I sometimes feel unlovable: too ugly or too fat to love. Or perhaps the underlying theme of it all: that I am unworthy of my greatest dreams, for whatever reason I decided once when I was a toddler or whenever you pick up yo crazy.
Writing these things out makes them seem so silly.
Writing them publicly in your blog makes them sound insane.
This is what Brenee Brown, and so many others she has drawn from, means when she says vulnerability is strength. What happens when you transcend your neuroses is that you derive knowledge and love from them.
You understand better. You have more courage.
How nice it is to wake up from a reality and realize it wasn’t real. It was basically a dream. It was never true, it wasn’t based on truth. You live your whole life believing an illusion about yourself until you don’t and all of a sudden you’re light, free and happy about the world and you’re finally ready to inherit it.
I’m hoping that someone who’s ready to read this will come across and become inspired to fearlessly look into their lives, their choices, their minds, their reactions and feelings and to have the courage to understand that they couldn’t be more beautiful or worthy of all the gifts that are so freely available to us in life.
Also, this is what Charlie Chaplin looks like without makeup on: