Only now am I figuring out that it’s okay to be ‘me’, to not necessarily ‘write every day’ to be able to qualify as a writer, to not read the exact prescribed amount, to question the established notions of what ‘should be’ or not. Make of life what you will and permit yourself to alter this life as needed.
I read an article today that said ‘writing begins with forgiveness’. So does life. Forgive yourself for not being the A-grader, the class beauty, as-skinny-as-her or getting-paid-as-much-as-him. Forgive yourself for your heart and your hair, for your quirks and flaws, for your voice, for your temperament. This is the heart and hair you will live with, this is what you have, the best and the worst.
Forgive yourself for setting standards for yourself that were defined by someone else, ages ago. Forgive yourself for hating on yourself for not matching up to them. ‘Success’ is subjective. I hope you remember that.
Life, truly, will begin with forgiveness, then, I hope.
Forgiveness births acceptance and someday, hopefully, you’ll look at the world you’re in with eyes that are as beautiful as any, with a heart that’s full and happy and you’ll begin to finally live. Without disliking yourself. And then maybe, for the first time, you’ll know what it’s like to love – truly love. Not for validation or because you need to be loved, but honestly, begin to give yourself to your passions, your vocation, your people.
Until next time, love.