Bright Enough

Young children accept themselves for who they are, I was no exception. Except….that I ceased to be un-self-aware before I was three. I remember those first thoughts.

Among other things, I cannot remember when I did not have night terrors about fires and dogs. I still have nightmares about dogs even though I love the ones I know now. I lit my first match when I was married and had to use a match every time I used my stove. I am fascinated by fireplaces and camp fires, but still secretly terrified of being burned.

It takes a huge amount of courage to conquer deep seated fears. I have courage. I have always felt I had no choice, but there are always choices.

I knew what I was supposed to like and be and do and it was usually so far from what I wanted that the gap astounded even me. I suspected I was flawed, but if you are a very high functioning child no one seems to care about anything else. Besides I knew most grown-ups were already dealing with “serious” problems, so I simply became whatever it was necessary to be in the moment.

I am so good at morphing that it’s possible I am the mold from which all other things are modeled. I don’t really know. I only know life from my side of the cookie cutter and most of my life the world chose which one to use and cut me out.

Now, as I enter the last part of my life, I am trying to resist the urge to shape up and be “normal.” Whatever I am surely cannot be so bad that it must be hidden forever. In fact, I am pretty sure that all these abilities to overcome and conform and please must hold something strong and good that is uniquely me and I would like to experience that for myself.

I may make a lot of mistakes, but I am trying to lift the bar that keeps me from just letting go and doing, saying, being who I really am. If I was bright enough to be all the rest, surely I am bright enough to be myself. And brave enough too.