Into the Light
It is this body’s favourite hour to awake, half way between night and dawn. Even the birds are slow in their waking today, perhaps I am the only one who is here in these of hours of darkness, being summoned to this chair and this page.
I have had fun today and it is always unexpected and comes upon me with a surprising jolt. I had fun being me, amongst others who I have had difficulty with, in the past. I would say that traditionally I have been quietly observing the scene, sitting on the peripheral and not wishing to bring attention my way. The limelight was never my resting point; the shadows felt much more palatable to me. I had family members who embraced the stage and relished their time in the spotlight, full of drama and passion and a lot of times, anger. And I concluded it was safer to stay hidden, then the buggers couldn’t get me. I often felt I was in enemy territory and any minute a sentry would spy my presence and make a pop at me. So I learnt to crouch low and remain invisible.
These last few years, I have begun to uncoil and step out a little further into the light. I have become better at holding my own in conversations, and being at peace with my own identity. I had a conversation today with two different people, one online and one in person. And in both scenarios, I was truly being myself and owning my opinion without malice or harm to myself or others. I used to unravel when others said things that didn’t concur with me. And I would begin to question my own opinions, my own taste and my own autonomy. Those days are mostly gone, brushed away like a cobweb in the spring morning light. Hurrah! And how delightful it is to say to the other person, ‘well that is your way and this is mine’ and for me to feel that certainty that I now know what is right for me.
My Mum made a comment once that stayed with me for many years and I felt imprisoned by the words ‘Well that is because you have cheap taste!’. Honestly words can be weapons, spoken in a way that brings about an inward shrinking. And the bearer may have meant something different, and yet the 15 year old me took that to heart and I sadly lost my sense of knowingness of what I liked. And so the lost years became many years of unknowingness, or I would say years of ‘un-belonging’ that which was truly me. And it has only been in my wiser years that I have reclaimed that 15 year old and taken time to relearn that which she likes, that which she finds beautiful. And I have integrated that with the ‘me’ that is sitting here writing these words. I can say ‘this is me now’ and this me will likely change her mind as I continue to sift and sort this ‘home’ of mine. And I am allowing this, no longer fixed in one viewpoint. I’m curious to dwell in that little sunlight and determine for myself what is my taste. Someone said to me ‘why bother?’ and I felt a pang of sadness for the limiting beliefs this provides. ‘Bothering’ has been the thing that has bought me back to myself and I will ‘bother’ till my last breath on this earth. It is me and that is enough.