For years I was a fraud.
Pretending to be someone I wasn’t, liking things or people I didn’t, going with the flow because it was expected. It was easier to nod and accept rather than voice a contrary opinion and face ridicule, spite or anger.
I lost my way, my sense of self was buried. No-one knew the real me, least of all myself.
It all changed in 1987.
Pushed too far, I shed everything, the result being a shivering, gibbering wreck in a corner.
It was a gift.
The chance to start again on my terms with the knowledge of what had passed and the will to ensure I didn’t make the same mistakes.
I could see so much more clearly, as the rose-tinted glasses of ‘wanting’ had shattered.
I say ‘wanting’ because that was what it was, wanting to be loved, wanting to be liked, wanting a nice home, wanting a family, so many things, yet it was an elaborate lie which extended the cobwebs of deceit to all who knew me.
Piece by piece I rebuilt my life, taking ‘the good bits’ of myself I liked as my foundations.
Not ignoring the bad, they happened and I couldn’t change that, but I didn’t have to continue to live it.
I understood my younger self, a person unsure, naive and so wanting to find her place.
It wasn’t where I was, the life I lived or who I was with.
I am still Me, but a better person than I was all those years ago.
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie 22nd October.