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~ When life doesn't turn out as you had hope it would – It may not be 100% factual truth-but, it is 100% me.

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Monthly Archives: February 2016

Two Hearts

29 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Depressed, Fear, Feelings, Forgiveness, Growth, High School, Highly Sensitive Person, HSP, life, Reflection

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According to the article “16 Habits of Highly Sensitive People”:

1. They feel more deeply. One of the hallmark characteristics of highly sensitive people is the ability to feel more deeply than their less-sensitive peers. “They like to process things on a deep level,”… “They’re very intuitive, and go very deep inside to try to figure things out.”

I suppose this was always apparent in me.

When I was a kid I used to know, intuitively, that I was supposed to love and care for every person that crossed my path.

When I was 13, I went for a 2-hour walk giving a heated speech (to no one in particular-I lived in the country and there was no one around for miles) about how homosexuals should be welcomed into society freely and without judgement. It was 1993 and I had just seen “And The Band Played On”. It infuriated me-made my blood boil. I couldn’t rest.

As if middle school wasn’t difficult enough, when I entered high school it was as if I had entered a war zone. I was completely lost.

I took every comment, every glance, every shrug, every snide remark, personally-whether, or not, it was even directed towards me.

And, as my teachers were starting to expose us to more world issues and intense literature, I found myself spiraling into a deep, dark place.

My English teacher used to tell me that I needed to learn to have “two hearts”.
He would say: “Heather, you need to learn to have two hearts. One to care for yourself and one to place all the care for the world that is constantly weighing you down.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what I was supposed to do with that advice.

I still don’t know.

me at mike and dans

I have one mind. It is me. For all its greatness and all its weakness. It is what it is.

I feel things deeply. Intensely.

I can’t really explain it. Try this: think of the deepest, most intense, moments of your life: childbirth, marriage, your most intimate sexual experience, a time you felt seething anger, moments of ecstasy, etc. and multiply it by 10.
That’s how I feel about 10-20 things every day.

A memory that rises from the recesses of my brain.
A car that cuts me off as I’m crossing the street.
A careless comment uttered by my husband.
A smile from my baby.
A scene in a tv show.
The feeling of the air as it hits my skin when I step outside.
The smell of toothpaste…

It doesn’t take much to bring me into a deep, introspective, place.

High School is known for being a tough place for everyone. But, it really did almost kill me. And this is one of the reasons why.
I was being exposed to more of life and the world, but given little help in how to process and handle it all.
And so, I have spent every day since I left that hell-hole, trying to come to grips with it all.

I still have a long way to go.

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High School Almost Killed Me

28 Sunday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Depressed, Depression, Disappointment, Endings, Grief, High School, Highly Sensitive Person, HSP, Loss, Overdose, Pain, Suicide, Tired

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When I was 18, I over-dosed on Gravol and a few other things that I found in the cabinet.
I remember the morning as clearly as though it was yesterday.

I was tired. So, very tired.

I had just managed to scrape-through some of the roughest 3 weeks of my life. These 3 weeks were full of disappointments, let-downs, heartaches, hurtful practical jokes and endings. It was my last year of school and I was already feeling the grief of all that was being lost.

I didn’t set-out to kill myself in particular. I just wanted a break. I just wanted to be able to get-away from all the pain for a day.
To just sleep-through it all.

As the meds started to set-in I began to worry ‘what if I don’t wake-up?’ I took-out my journal and jotted-down some notes to my loved ones (just in case), and I called my Music Teacher to let him know I wouldn’t be at school or band practice that night.

And then…it all went black…

_____________________________________________________________________________

As a, so-called, “Highly Sensitive Person”, I am amazed at how I’ve managed to make it through the turbulent waters of life.

Though, it’s certainly true that I haven’t come-through it unscathed. I have the scars to prove that I have embraced life in all its guts and glory.

This article is a good place to start on my journey because it sets the scene for who I am and how I experience the world.

Once again, for fellow HSP’s out there, or anyone who lives with an HSP, check-out the Huffington Post article:

16 Habits of Highly Sensitive People

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‘The Adventures of Tom and Huck’

27 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Tags

Brothers, Childhood, Divorce, Donut, Innocence, Neglect, Summer, Trouble

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I was between the ages of 7 and 9 when my parents were divorcing. I remember this time as a mixture of freedom and neglect. We seemed to have very little parental guidance, control or presence in our lives.

While this meant that we could pretty much do whatever we wanted, it also meant we often didn’t have anyone taking care of us. While all of this was happening I rarely saw my eldest brother, who was 8(ish) years older than me at the time, while my other brother (4ish years older) seemed to become my entire universe.

He and I used to ‘skip’ school together, steal toys and food from stores, break into places, go swimming, eat candy (we had bought with money we stole from our Mom) and bike around town getting into trouble wherever we could.

I’m not sure I felt this at the time, but when I think back on those days I always think of them as sort of ‘the adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn’ chapter of my life.

I remember the first summer after ‘the split’ being a hot one. My brother and I spent a lot of time at the lake and along the river. There were always houseboats docked along the river that were of great interest and intrigue to us. We would lay around on a nearby dock observing them until we sure it was safe, and then we would sneak on.

These weren’t expensive, fancy houseboats. They were the kind you could picture floating down the Mississippi on a humid summer day. We would imagine we were setting sail to wonderful, exotic places. And pretend that we were far away from our troubles.

We were caught twice. The first man who caught us was angry and unforgiving. He treated us like we were annoying, little, creatures (which, I guess we were) and kicked us off his boat.

The second man was much more patient. He expressed to us, in a kind but firm manner, that we were in the wrong and then showed us around his boat before kicking us off and making sure we understood that we were never to do it again.

On one of our more particular naughty days, we ‘skipped’ school and rode around town on our bikes taking air pressure caps off vehicle tires. I have no idea why we thought of doing this. We collected, what seemed like, hundreds of those little, black caps.

When our Mother found the stash she was, understandably, livid. She made us bike around and return them all. Which, of course, we didn’t do. We disposed of the ‘evidence’ and went swimming.

I remember these days as also being the days of ‘the empty fridge’. I have vivid memories of coming home from school at the end of the day, so hungry, opening the fridge and literally seeing nothing but a bottle of vodka.

But, we usually had a loaf of bread and, for some reason, a bag of icing sugar. This is when we created the first ever ‘microwave bread donut’!

Microwave Bread Donut

Recipe: slice of white bread, bag of icing sugar

Cooking Method: microwave slice of bread for 10 seconds, or until hot.

Roll hot slice of bread into a ball.

Place the ball of bread in icing sugar bag. Seal bag and shake well.

Open bag, consume ‘donut’.

This year is also the first time I remember my eldest brother, who is now an Executive Chef, cooking.

He would make us Kraft Dinner and pancakes and try to show us how to do things and get us to help. We were not very easy to manage. We would try to get the pancakes to stick to the ceiling, like we’d seen in cartoons and fling forkfuls of KD around like we were having an “Ernest Goes to Camp” kind of food fight.

I’m amazed after his experiences with his first, unruly, sous chefs that he still went ahead and pursued his cooking career. I’m pretty sure we helped him first discover his passion for the kitchen. Though, he’d probably say otherwise.

This time of life is full of fun stories, mischief, loss of innocence, pain, sadness, love and complexity.

This is only the beginning of the unraveling of my story.

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I’m Sorry. So Sorry.

26 Friday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Acceptance, Emotion, Forgiveness, Guilt, Highly Sensitive Person, HSP, Love, Relationships, Sorry

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Back during one of my previous attempts at blogging, I talked about being a “highly sensitive person”.

I had found this blog on Huffington Post and it resonated with me:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/02/26/highly-sensitive-people-signs-habits_n_4810794.html

I’ve been thinking about #6 quite a bit lately: An HSP (Highly Sensitive Person) is “more upset if they make a ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’ decision.”

My husband will be able to attest to the fact that I do not say “I’m sorry” very easily. This can often be misunderstood as me not being sorry. But, the truth is exactly the opposite.

The problem, and I try to explain this to him (though, I don’t think he ever believes me), is that I feel so sorry and horrible for what I have done that it’s difficult for me to talk about it.

The Huff Po article says “You know that uncomfortable feeling you get after you realize you’ve made a bad decision? For highly sensitive people, ‘that emotion is amplified because the emotional reactivity is higher’”.

Here’s an example of how this works for us HSP’s from an experience I had just this morning.

When I was changing my son’s diaper I found that he had pooped at some point, most likely, during the night and it had started to squish out of his diaper. When I removed the diaper, I noticed that, because he had been sitting in it for so long, his skin was beat red. Here is what happened in my brain:

He probably did it right after we put him down last night when he was fussing.
Why did I ignore him?
If I had gone in and checked on him this wouldn’t have happened.
It’s my fault his bum is all red and sore.
I tortured my child all night long because I’m lazy.
I’m a horrible person.
I don’t deserve forgiveness.
I don’t deserve to be loved.
With all of that going on in our brains, can you really blame us for struggling to say “I’m sorry”?

The ability to move through these thoughts and say “I’m sorry” is further stymied if the person we have hurt has a strong reaction to what we have done.

For example: I drop a can of peaches on my husband’s foot and he instantly screams in pain and shoots me a dirty look. Here is what happens in my brain:

What’s wrong with me?
I’m a stupid klutz.
Now he hates you (judging by the look he just gave you).
Why are you so dumb?
You can’t do anything right.

I’m a horrible person.
I don’t deserve forgiveness.
I don’t deserve to be loved.

What’s the solution? Should we just be ‘off the hook’ and not have to say “I’m sorry” ever again?

I don’t think so.

I’ve been working on being able to apologize by first of all, trying to explain what is happening in my head at the time so there is an understanding of what I’m facing. I also practice self-talk in my head and try to formulate something to say that, may not be the words “I’m sorry” but mean the same thing, with the hopes that, one day, I will be able to actually just say the words.

Until then, if I’ve hurt you in any way, please accept my apology and know that I’m working on being able to say I’m sorry for the next time I (inevitably) hurt you.

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Prom

25 Thursday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Confidence, Control, Embarrassment, Forgiveness, High School, Memories, Perspective, Prom, Ridiculous, Safety, Self-Disdain, Self-Loathing, Stability, Teachers

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To this day I can’t remember what kind of reasoning or excuse I must have given to my  prom date (who also happened to be my brother) when I drove us to my teacher’s house before heading to the prom.

This action is something that plagued me with intense self-disdain and embarrassment for years.

‘How completely ridiculous am I that I did something like that?’

As an adult I can understand why I did it and I have been telling myself to cut the teenage me a break.

My home life was not stable and could be fairly volatile at times. This teacher was one of the few people in my life that made me feel safe.

I was attending prom despite the fact that I desperately did not want to go. I had never been interested in attending a prom. But, it seemed important to my mother that I attend, and then my brother offered to go with me and I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or let anyone down (see my “People Pleaser” post).

Because I felt like I had zero control over anything and was about to walk into a world that I believed would chew me up and spit me out like I was yesterday’s gum, I needed to see a friendly face.

I went to his house to get some confidence.

If he said that everything was going to be great and that I looked lovely, then just maybe, I could survive the horror that lay-before me.

When I look-back on photos of my prom I’m always struck by how much I look like the ghost of an old grandma who died on the way to a wedding. Truthfully.

Our prom theme was, perhaps, the most disgusting theme ever used for a prom: “Truly, Madly, Deeply” based on that, ‘oh so amazing’ (makes me want to puke to this day), song by ‘Savage Garden’. We didn’t walk in the grand march, but I think we watched everyone else doing it as that horrible song played over and over and over again.

While at prom I did have some fun, despite myself. My brother and I danced a fair amount. He was incredible and kept saying things like: “Let’s show these assholes how to dance’.

I think I ditched him pretty unceremoniously at the end. I can’t really remember the chain of events, but I don’t think I stuck-around prom for that long. I remember going to a friend’s house afterwards and eating a crap load of junk food while watching a movie or something.

Most of me just wanted to forget that the whole, horrible, night had ever happened.

But, years later, after being able to forgive myself for the stupid things I did when I was a lost teenager, searching desperately for security, acceptance and self, I think back on my prom and the words that come to mind are not that it was lame, torturous, unimportant or stupid.

Now, when I think about that night, these are the words that float to the top: My brother is amazing. He loves me so much that he was willing to do that for me.

And, we really did show those assholes how to dance.

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Creativity

24 Wednesday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Art, Creativity, Freedom, Life Lessons, Performance, Reflection, Writing

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While creativity can be something that you either have, or you don’t, it also doesn’t mean that you can just turn it on and off like a faucet.

For me, the most important thing to allow my creativity to flow is the ability to quiet the outside world. This means more than turning off the tv or avoiding checking-in on my smart phone.

For me, it requires a quieting of the world that, even after these external resources have been powered down, exists in the mind.

I can quickly overwhelm myself with thoughts, expectations and pressure to live up to a certain standard, be a certain way and to create a masterpiece.

With this pressure screaming at me loudly, banging its fists, stomping its feet and demanding that I perform, I will, inevitably, clam up and produce nothing.

I become like a flower under extreme heat. I wilt and lose my luster.

Many years ago I had the privilege of sitting in a small group of people and free writing. The guy leading the group was an editor for a non-profit magazine at the time. He instructed us to just write for 1 minute, 5 minutes and then 10 minutes without stopping or going back to correct or edit while we were writing.

This was an incredibly valuable experience for me. It is difficult to allow yourself just to write without allowing the drive to self-edit take over. When we start to edit ourselves our thoughts change direction and we can lose something really beautiful, honest, vulnerable and powerful that was about to come out because we have choked freedom in exchange for perfection.

This little lesson was only a couple of hours long, one evening, 7 or so years ago, but I am amazed at how many times, when I’m sitting down to write, I close my eyes and bring myself right back to that room. I picture the tables set-up in rows, the others in the group sitting around me, the darkness in the sky outside the window, the pen and paper in front of me, and this person standing before us telling us to write.

I keep my eyes closed and I can hear a clock ticking, ‘tick, tick, tick’, counting down the 60 seconds for the first minute to be finished and as I allow the gentle ‘tick, tick, tick’ to clear my mind of all other thoughts, I suddenly find myself writing. Freely, unedited, messy, jumbled, inspiring, terrifying and beautiful.

To the person who changed my life so many years ago, thank you. I know it was just a blip in time and may have felt fairly insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but for me it has been a lesson that has held priceless value as it continues to help me be able to freely express myself time and time again.

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Image

Migraine

23 Tuesday Feb 2016

Tags

Headache, Migraine, Pain, Poem, Tea

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A short poem I wrote yesterday while suffering from a migraine.

Migraine

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Posted by Heather Irwin | Filed under Uncategorized

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I should have been a professional musician

22 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

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When I was in High School I was able to take music class and learn a REAL instrument (by that I mean something other than the recorder or grade school ukulele).

The first instrument I picked-up was the Baritone (like a Euphonium, but a smaller version). I loved it. Playing the baritone opened-up an entire universe to me that I had never imagined could exist. I felt my existence more powerfully when I played than any other time, except for when I was writing.

High School was extremely difficult for me, as I know it is for a lot of people. I ended-up depressed and suffered from many anxiety attacks and emotional/mental breakdowns. Playing and writing is where I found solace and safety.

In grade 10 we played a piece entitled “Campbell River Sketches”. There was something about the melody that just transported me to a better place. During this piece, I had the great privilege of playing a beautifully soaring solo. I can still remember it, note for note, to this day, as being one of the most fulfilling moments of my life.

And so, I decided that I wanted to be a professional musician.

When I expressed this to my teacher he told me that if I was serious I needed to switch from the baritone to the trombone. I did so and for the next year I practiced hour upon hour to become as good on the trombone as I had been on the baritone. My parents bought me a silent mute so I could play for hours on end without bothering them. I was so excited that I was on my way towards living a life doing the thing I loved so much.

I arranged an audition at the University ‘of my choice’ (there will be more about this University stuff later) and all my spare time went into perfecting my 3 chosen pieces.

When it was time to audition, I beamed with confidence and pleasantry and played my musical selections excellently. However, I was completely unprepared for having to sit through theory tests, sight-reading, performing every scale imaginable and having to be able to listen to notes, intervals and chords and identify them.

When I didn’t get in to the music program, I was devastated. I had hoped that my glowing personality and the soaring tone of my trombone would have been enough for them to overlook the absolute failure I was at some of the theory.

I was accepted to the Arts program, but would never attend University (as I said, another story for another time-this post is about the music).

Here I am, almost 20 years later, and I still desperately wish that when I woke-up in the morning, after enjoying my cup of tea and toast, I would be grabbing my horn and heading to rehearsal.

I still wish that my evenings were filled with performing music with a professional orchestra/band/ensemble and emptying spit valves.

I feel sad for this loss every single day of my life.

I have found other ways to try and “make-up” for it: joining a community band, playing guitar at home, singing all the time, etc. But, it’s not the same.

Every day I ask myself how to reconcile living with the thought that things just didn’t turn-out the way I had wanted, hoped and expected them to.
How can I be ok with my desk job when my real dream is to be playing in an orchestra?

I think ‘if only this had been different…’

‘If only that had gone differently…’

‘If only someone had told me at the time…’

I don’t believe that everything happens for some great cosmic reason, or there is some great being out there pulling strings and moving things around like a giant chess board. I believe things happen because decisions are made and each decision carries consequences. My decisions have brought me here-to this place.

And, while I can find happiness in the life I have now (my gorgeous child being one bright spot), these things do not and cannot erase the fact that I still want(ed) my life to work-out one way, and it turned-out another.

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The Day that Guy Followed Me Home

21 Sunday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in Uncategorized

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*

I have only recently come to understand that I am a lot more immature and naïve than I had believed myself to be.

I always thought I was very mature because, even as a child, I spent a lot of my time with older children, teenagers and adults. I know, now, that I was just very good at pretending.
I have a keen talent to be able to transform into the type of person that reflects the situation or demographic of which I am surrounded.

While this has served me well in life, it has also caused me trouble. When I moved to the city, I thought I was mature and “street-smart” enough to handle it.

The fact that I was not became glaringly obvious when I found myself walking home from my part-time job at a thrift store, holding hands with a much older man whom I barely knew because I didn’t know how to get rid of him and I was afraid to stop it.

I was afraid to stop it.

This person had started coming-into the store and I was as small-town friendly with him as I was with everyone else I met in the big city. He started to visit more frequently and just hang-around me. Added to my naivety was the fact that, at the time, I believed I was on a mission from god to reach-out to every poor person in the city and give myself wholly to them as a vessel.

This man showed-up one day just as we were closing and asked if I wanted to go out after work. When I declined he asked if I wanted to go to his place. When I declined that offer, he asked if he could come over to my place. I declined again. He kept pressing me, and I was starting to feel rude, flustered and nervous, so when he asked if he could walk me home I said ‘uh…I guess…’

The next thing I knew, he was holding my hand.

I froze.

I was panicking inside. I didn’t have a clue what to do.

I didn’t want to be rude to him, because in my mind I was meant to be there to help people as a vessel of god and as a christian, I shouldn’t be rude.

So, I let him hold my hand and walk me home.

Thankfully, I didn’t live by myself. I lived in a ‘ministry house’ with 3 other adults (all of us had moved to the area to volunteer in the community.

Also, thankfully, there was an after-school program happening there at the time, so when he asked, again, if he could come in I had an honest answer ready to give: ‘No, sorry, there is a program happening right now.’

When we got to the door I, politely, shook my hand free of his and when he asked if he could have my phone # I said “uh, can you wait here a minute?’

I went inside and explained to one of my male friends, who was leading the after school group, what was happening. He came back to the door with me and talked to the man, explaining that he was my boyfriend (he wasn’t) and asking him to, please, leave me alone (in a polite, godly way).

But, the man kept coming to my workplace and talking to me. He came back the next day and said ‘why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend? You let me hold your hand.’

I told my boss what had happened and my boss instructed me to go to the back area of the store that was for employees only and inform him whenever the man entered the store.
I did as instructed and my boss, who was a massive man from Trinidad, would go and tower over the man and tell him to leave and never approach me again.

I felt so embarrassed.

I was so young.

*

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People Pleaser

20 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in Uncategorized

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Tags

Approval, Choice, Disappointment, Divorce, Fear, Freedom, freethinking, Invisible, Mistakes, People Pleaser

*

“If you think you can get away with it, you can.”

That’s what my brother said to me many years ago when I saw a girl wearing green camo-style khakis and a blue top and said “I’d never be able to wear that”.

I had been raised with many “to do’s” and “not to do’s” of fashion: never wear horizontal stripes, they make you look fat; white should never be worn after labor day; and, of course, “blue and green should never be seen”.

So, on this particular day when I was looking longingly at this girl who looked great, seemed comfortable and exuded confidence, his words rocked me to my core.

‘I can wear what I want?’

This question, of course, was just a shadow of the deeper struggle going on: ‘I want to be this, but I feel forced to be this .’

I grew-up as a person who wanted to please everyone – a trait that still hangs around my neck like a boulder the size of Texas. I hate letting people down. I hate not living-up to expectations. I hate making mistakes. I hate upsetting people.

So, it has been a pretty huge learning curve for me in life to learn that, no matter how much I try to avoid it, I am going to do some, or all, of it many, many, many times.

Sometimes I feel like I missed the lesson on ‘how to think for yourself’ that everyone else got in life. It’s not that I don’t have my own thoughts, I certainly do, but I only allow them out into the world if it means that it’s going to please people. If I think that it will upset people, I generally will keep it to myself.

This is a huge problem.

It leaves me feeling invisible a lot of the time. I’m afraid to be myself for fear of disappointing people.

I’m not sure when it all started. It could have been when my parent’s divorced and I began to worry that it happened because I wasn’t good enough, or if I could only be perfect maybe I’d see my Dad more often; or when adults would tell me, a child, about their struggles and I felt it was my responsibility to take care of them and make them feel better; or in school when everyone is just trying to be accepted and fit-in so you do and say what you think your peers want. Most likely it’s been a combination of all of the above and more.

Wherever it started, it exists and it sucks.

The intention is to not let it exist here.

Memories will be shared, dreams will flow, imagination will run wild and life will forge forwards as it always does.

*

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