Dear Strong Woman,
Old ways won’t open new doors.
I’ve been working on a new entry for weeks. It’s about how I wore shoes that were both cute and too small and how the pain I experienced in my feet is similar to the ways our souls feel pain when we shrink ourselves down for the sake of appearances in relationships. (Takes a breath.) . It was witty and heartfelt and vulnerable…and laced with self-judgment for the way it’s gone for me in that arena.
So I scrapped it. I scrapped it because I’m done with that past-based, back-door “I should’ve known better” trap. Looking to the past to assess patterns in an effort to interrupt them moving forward? I’m all for it. But going back there to dig up all of the evidence as to why I am a silly, naive girl who never learns?
I’m not available for that anymore.
I believe I took a step in breaking up that pattern by choosing to share this here thing I wrote in seven minutes versus the story I’ve been writing for almost two weeks. It wasn’t hard. It wasn’t emotional. It was simply a choice.
Maybe there are more spur-of-the-moment shares like this to come from me. Maybe more spontaneous decisions in general.
A voice in my head says, “Yeah, and maybe more living, too.”
I’m not sure where to end this so I’ll end it there. I’m also not sure if you got anything out of this, and yet I’m more present to what I got of this right now. I suppose the gift of writing is found more in the process than the final product.
(There. You can pull an “enjoy the journey” zinger from that. My work here is done.)