There were many years that I didn’t want to be me; I rejected and tried to replace myself.
Contacts instead of glasses. Haircuts and failed attempts to straighten my thick, wavy curls. Shaving, waxing, plucking. Makeup and accessories. Feigning interest in any number of things just to assimilate in hopes of being accepted. Trying to fit in, feeling like a fraud, hustling, rejecting, never truly feeling comfortable or truly belonging.
Even the partying and clubbing and socializing and intoxication and numbing and flings was all an act; all pieces of armor, costume, camouflage. Nothing was ever enough; nothing ever fulfilled or completed or appeased me.
I moved through people like fads – wearing out or being worn out, discarding or being discarded, using or being used, ghosting or being ghosted, cutting off or being cut off, justifying my behavior and walling up my emotions to deal with being outed or running away.
Always burying and hiding. Wanting my past to be erased, not just die, to never have existed. Willing it. Ignoring and denying.
What I have now feels enough for me. I can openly share my thoughts and feelings. I can detach from them – they don’t define or contain or control me. The people in my orbit bring value to my life. I’m honest with them and myself.
No more armoring, faking, running, hiding, lying, hurting.