demolished,
drawn on,
hair chopped, Barbie dolls..
Woops.
To say the least I remember being a pesky, annoying, bleach-blonde-headed diva that snuck in to her mother’s closet to try on all her fancy dresses, sparkly jewelry, oversized heels, and hell, even her silicon ta-ta’s. Yep. I was the child who stuffed her La Senza girl training bra, put on a disastrous old fashioned shade of red lipstick and walked up and down my hallway envisioning myself as a runway model. Embarrassing, absolutely. Even more embarrassing.. when mom couldn’t find her fake boobies.
I was a bit of a shape-shifter growing up. Anything from a spoiled little brat that told on my brother for drinking dads beer downstairs with his friends, to a quiet child that read the Black Stallion, Little House on the Prairie, Babysitters Club, and Boxcar Children series' front to back in my closet with a night light, every night, so I wouldn't get it trouble staying up so late. I loved the feeling of letting my imagination run wild. I loved the feeling of adventure and being in a realm where anything was possible, as long as I kept my mind open to it.
Let me assure you before you think I was some psychopath loner child, that I had friends and a social life. I loved my personal time but I lived for my sports. I craved them and everything about the competition, medals, trophies and plaques. These were my accomplishments. I loved to win, and I played to win. There wasn't really any other option. I’d sleepwalk the night before a big softball game and pep talk myself about how I was going to pitch. Obviously, my parents thought this was extremely unusual, but eventually it wore off. I lived for the thrill of competing and running around until my face turned blue with my ponytail flopping on top of my head.
I never understood or appreciated my innocence of adventure when I was younger. I guess you really aren't supposed too. Looking back, I value every day of my youth where the only thing that mattered was playing outside until the street lights came on and it was time to go home. I was always satisfied, easily amused, easily impressed. As I grew up, this changed. I tried more and more things to satisfy my soul. None the less, it just wouldn't fill all the way up as it so easily use too.
Sitting back and reflecting now, my inner self would probably tell me it enjoys leaving itself unsatisfied, half full, almost scared to do more or even too much. But I never intentionally starve it; I just neglect to succeed in doing what it lets. However, this is not something I try and hold myself accountable for. I live my life at a beautiful pace, full of supreme desire and even still I find myself complaining about the little things. But at the same time, I love simplicity.
I love my snuggle. A yellow and brown puppy named Rover that sleeps at my bedside every night with the most precious floppiest ears. I love smelly candles, preferably vanilla or pumpkin spice. I love macaroni and cheese served best with a ridiculous amount of ketchup. I love big bows and long pink ribbons that blow in the wind. And I love romance books. Anything Nicholas Sparks will do. I love tuna fish sandwiches with the crust cut off and earl grey tea from God's heaven on earth, Starbucks. I appreciate rainy days and cool dark nights that have the ever so patient stars peeping from the blankets of bluey black. I love OPI baby pink nail polish, and I think Marilyn Monroe is the most fabulous woman of all time, apart from my mother.
At the same time, I have fears of exposing too much of myself, judgment from others, suffering of loved ones, of myself, of being lost, of dying, but even more, of having nobody remember who I was when I pass away. I try and remind myself constantly to not lose myself in the structure of life, the puzzle pieces that aren't ready to be put together, that I simply have no control over. I think this is something we forget often. I can control my thoughts, how people make me feel, what I read, what I write, what I wear, but I can’t control how that effects others. That is simply out of my hands.
I believe that I have a unique place in the world, as does everybody. No two aspects of your life, your body, and your mentality are going to be the same as another’s. We are children of God, our creator that is higher than we can ever imagine. For that, we are special. I believe in order to seek God in the physical world, you must first seek him within yourself. This is where we will have a better chance understanding Him, our fellow brothers and sisters, and most importantly, ourselves.
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