Dear Diary,
Like so many other times in my life I am at a crossroads. Desiring to be further than I am while learning to accept being here. And I write so little any more because acknowledging my truth, my fears, my hopes, and my deepest desires is scary. What if they sneak out into the world? What if someone were to see past what I reveal. What if someone could reach me as you once did. Someone I don't know once told me to be careful because I was shining too brightly.... Really? But it gave me pause. How tenuous and fragile my confidence seems to be. So I'll reaffirm my intent to become all I was created to be.

Being Me
Floating to consciousness with sunlight warming my face,
Dreams still lingering on my lips. With eyes still closed, there is peace.
Today I rise in glory to BE!

But it tugs at the edge of memory, this thing...
so I let go and sink back to sleep,
For a moment, reclaiming peace.

But at what cost?
Must I sacrifice feeling?
Is the lack of pain the same thing as peace?

No.

No, it can never be enough. And now I'm angry.
Fully awake and eyes wide, it is there.

This thing inside me that always whispers, "not enough".

Ironic isn't it?

That which causes my pain also drives me to freedom. "Not enough" means anything less than fully engaging life is also "not enough".

I want to stand strong, be loving, productive, wise, and compassionate. I want to teach my children how to be healthy, happy, and whole. I want to rest in the cradle of all that is good and honest and real.

I want to BE.

Instead, there is emptiness recognized in thought as residual betrayal and injury, but my heart aches. Not for lust or love or even another, but for wholeness. For being complete. For acceptance. For looking in the mirror and loving myself, absolutely. For never needing, because I AM.

My love is tainted with need and my only regret comes from allowing that need to entrance another. With the constant distraction of adoration and affection I can almost forget the hole in my soul.

Almost.

But I've tasted freedom! I know it can be had. And I won't feed upon others to fill my soul. I choose not to be the Siren of old, though her gifts I certainly possess. I choose to honor the people in my life and sacrifice the need. I choose to live with a hole until I can mend my soul. But most importantly, I CHOOSE.

I choose to live and love and hold no expectations. In this way I will be forced to look within at this wound and see where it bleeds. And I will heal. And I will breathe. And I will BE.