How I survived myself

If I could lighten up a little I’d let myself sing as loudly as possible and I wouldn’t care if the neighbours heard. If I could lighten up a little I’d jump on the bed. I would move to Paris and dye my hair a rich shade of red. I would take deeper breaths, stay up all night, and read poetry to strangers. I would dance. Naked. In front of a mirror. And I’d laugh at the way my flesh jiggles. If I could lighten up a little I would take bubble baths, read more, and make decisions quickly without agonizing over the outcomes. I would breathe and forgive myself for making mistakes. I would cheer loudly at hockey games just for the hell of it. I would do cannonballs of the diving board. I’d paint with my feet and relish the goo sliding between my toes. I would do more work and less procrastinating. I would build sandcastles too close to the incoming tide. I would dress up in gowns and make fake Oscar speeches, I would sit inside grocery carts and have someone push me down the aisles, I would just get my license already. I would hug people instead of shaking their hand, kiss everyone on both cheeks, and when I laughed it would be from the depths of my joy. I would stop complaining about the weather and get dressed in the dark. I’d shake out my worries by shaking my soul.

  If I could lighten up a little maybe I wouldn’t be so scared. Maybe I could shake the blues with a strawberry milkshake. Maybe I would be able to take a breath without choking on my tears. Maybe I’d get over all the things I can’t do, haven’t done, don’t want to do or haven’t done right. Maybe I’d throw my hands up in the air and proclaim “How fascinating” before I had the chance to knock myself down. Maybe I would be less selfish, more selfless. Less fake, more real. Maybe I would surprise myself with how great I really am. Maybe I’d take less and give more.  Maybe I would have the courage to get closer to god. Maybe I would appreciate the moment and live from the heart. If I could lighten up a little, maybe I would help to light up the world.

  My fingers hesitate as they pose overtop the keys. They are standing guard. Waiting to recieve word to let it flow. After an extended hiatus my voice has suddenly returned. at dinner tonight after a long conversation enjoyed between bites of hazelnut and butternut squash pasta and sips of verdajo, the urge to press my fingers to the keyboard returned. Epiphanies will do that. Travel will do that. A short reprieve from the strain of the everyday will sometimes ignite a fire once left flickering in the darkest corners of the soul.

  I have been in Banff since yesterday. Enjoying great food, great wine, and a little bit of change that makes a great big difference. I cannot place the exact time or date, but for the past months I have felt that the light inside of me has been extinguished. I have been going through the motions of each day with little passion. I have felt like a bird with these beautiful wings all squished up in a very tiny cage. As if every part of me wants to expand, but is trapped for lack of a way out. I realized tonight that I have been enclosing myself in this little cage off and on for a period much longer than these past few months. I have been trapped in boxes of my own thinking for a lifetime.

  I have always been a little different. There is a picture of me in a ballet class somewhere around the age of four. All the girls are tall. Their blond hair is pinned back neatly in a bun. Thier tutus are regulation pink, their toes pointed and turned outward in perfect plies. I stand at they end of the row, my flyaway brown hair is adorned with a yellow headband. I wear an off pink leotard and a slip of a skirt. I  dont have the picture with me, but I am fairly certain one of my feet is pigeon toed and my right hip juts out to the side. I joke about the picture now and how my lack of uniformity is all the fault of my mother, but it hasnt ever really been a joke to me. I have desperately been seeking a place where I belong. I have found this place before, only to find later that the space is not big enough. I guess it is not in my nature to be small. So I start to take steps outside, only to find that when you start taking steps outside the box, you sometimes lose what is still inside. I did not realize that such is life. You have to risk some to gain some. I just believed that my place, my heart, my dreams were not worth risking anymore. I see now, that the person I have lost inside the cages I’ve designed is myself. I have become so small that I have created exactly what I have feared. There is no room for anyone in here.  The truth is, I was not meant to fit in. It is my biggest shame and the secret I have done my best to hide, But if I hide it any longer I will never fly. I dont fit in. I am different. I stand out.

  This truth has haunted me, taunted me, and threatened to keep me from my dreams. But I have spoken it out loud now. Written it down. “I dont fit in” cant hurt me anymore. Because I dont care. Not that knowing this makes it easy. It will be a fight. Everyday I will have to step out. Claim my inner four year old who didnt give a damn about wearing mickey mouse bodysuits to class, and sing my new anthem at the top of my lungs! I stand out suckas! I am talented and smart and sexy and worthy and if you gotta problem with that, it’s not mine!!

  And I am writing this down so that tommorrow, when it gets hard to claim my voice, when I want to listen to all the messages saying “get back in the box” I will be reminded that somewhere inside of me the truth fits.