It is truly hard to claim yourself. What do you like and who do you believe yourself to be are two of an intricate network of questions for which the answers represent you. Except we are so inundated with facts on who we are supposed to be a that by the time we are old enough to have the power to define ourselves, we’ve all but forgotten who we are.
“You can be anything you want to be” is such a ridiculous statement, we think. I’m supposed to be all these other things.
I keep thinking that I need focus on who I see myself as. To actively engage in a process where I define myself to me and the world. For years, I have had the intention of delving into my journals and blog posts to get to know and appreciate myself better. Am I doing that? Not.
Except, self-love is giving yourself permission to be you. And if you don’t know you, how do you know where you end and others begin? Or what makes you happy? Or what you’re good at? All your decisions are driven by the answers to these questions. Or they’re not. And you’ll feel lost if you are choosing life choices based on other people’s expectations of you.
So I am again setting myself to seeing myself in my writing by reading my words. I want to hear what excites me again. I want to know what my priorities. Like an archaeological expedition, I want to rediscover myself and find out what parts of that need to be fleshed out. What flames need to be fanned into a bonfire that I can tend and share. Thinking that my daily art effort will now be redirected to this project and we’ll see where it takes me.
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