I am finished telling myself I am a failure
that I never finish what I start
It's no longer true about me
I no longer wish to give that story life
I'm ready to build on a new story
One where I finished a book of poetry
One where I finished a beautiful herb garden
One where I've learned to say what I mean and what I feel
One where I talk about the tough stuff
One where I can surrender to what's right in front of me
I have filled journals full of my failures. I have lived my life watching others live their lives to the fullest. I have lived in fear of other people and never taking action for my own worth. This last year it dawned on me why I wasn't getting anywhere on my goals. I wasn't facing the one thing stopping me - the idea of not being worthy and therefore not being able to walk across the start line. Maybe it was learning that my father knew about me and at least said he loved me. Maybe it was hearing my mom's story from the start and learning how hard she fought to create a good life for her children and for herself. Maybe it was finally letting go of the blame for my son's suicide. And, maybe it was simply the awareness of the source of the problem.
Funny thing about coming to the realization is that all those goals no longer held so much value to get done. It's like I kept making new goals, creating new projects to try out just so I could learn I could. The truth is when I look back I have done some amazing things with my life but I always looked at what I didn't do.
Now I choose to face each day knowing I can do those things I choose. Right now my days are filled with other - caring for my Mom, encouraging my grandson and taking tiny snippets for myself. I'm even learning that one. I need to grab hold of time for me if the rest of my life is going to work.
Earlier this morning I wrote the following:
"Life swirling around me,
hands grabbing at me from all directions,
unable to keep moving in any one direction,
constant shift and change,
STOP!!!"
I felt frantic. I couldn't get anywhere. The thing I'm learning is when I stand up for me, when I demand my time, the rest just slips away. The voices clamoring, the hands reaching, stopping me from caring for myself represent all the pieces of myself saying I don't deserve it. Taking time for myself is sometimes easy and sometimes a challenge. But I am the only one who can do it. Those voices can just take the back seat while I sit in the peace of having taken time for me.
So here's to a new year and a new chapter in the story of my life. Will you join me?