I told the hideously ugly truth about my past to someone I love dearly, changing their viewpoint on me forevermore. (cue dramatic music) These truths have been hiding underneath carefully constructed layers of what I presented to the world. The other me was floating around in the clouds, never far away, always aware of the descent back down. The process to become grounded began well over a year and a half ago. I need not share this with anyone (these are the sort of take to your grave offenses)yet all of the sorrid details kept falling out.. Once the unlayering began I could not stop it. Do I feel better that I spoke it out loud? No. As much as I sit here and try to figure out why, I can not come up with one singular answer.
Was this telling a new way to be? The previous chapter of my life had closed, I had forced it shut and sealed it with wax. Why did I have to burden my dearest friend, who is saddled with her own shit? Here, let me shit on you more?! Wasnt it easier to allow her to believe in my charade? I had made a series of alarming choices. I was given everything I had asked the universe for, children, a husband, and I found myself doing whatever I could to escape it. My husband and I completed the image of normal suburbia..all surface..nothing to be seen here fellas… Nothing felt real. I had to escape. Hence all those bad decisions….culminating in so much loss.
Was this telling a baby step to becoming whom I ultimately have been along? The reason of this brutal honesty I fear is a series of new decisions I must now make. The tip of the iceberg to becoming myself. To my dear friend who sat and listened I say this:
By listening to me into the early morning hours you gave me a gift that is better than good, it is enough. You listened. How many people in life can do that, exactly when its needed? ..Ive been bridging these gaps in my mind alone for quite some time. You helped me create a link so I can get across. Escaping was so very easy, being real is proving to be the hardest bit.
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.
The Velveteen Rabbit
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