Write every day

So, I have a new goal and that is to write at least a little every day. Today I am feeling a bit introverted, which is very uncommon for me, so I don't feel that I have a lot to offer in the form of written words. It's more that I am trying to figure some things out that I hope to be able to write about tomorrow. For now, all I really know is that something is happening. Something is stirring. A part of me that has been asleep, or maybe just to afraid to face the light of truth, is slowly starting to make it's way to the surface. And I'll be honest, it terrifies to my very core.



If there is anything that I do know about myself, it's this....I don't know how to do things that are right for me. Almost every decision I have made over the last, I don't know, 15 years of my life have been made with someone else in mind. From big decisions like getting married (that one was made in order to somehow "save" my now husband from himself) to the color of my hair. It seems really silly but it's true. I have always been labeled, and rightfully so, a text book people pleaser. My identity comes from how people react to me when I do or say what I know that want me to do or say. What a sad and lonely way to live life. Even the fact that I was very popular in school and church I think comes down to the fact that I know what people want to hear and what kind of person they want to be around. The sad thing is that I honestly had myself convinced, for quite some time, that being a people pleaser was a good thing. In fact, I took it as God's calling on my life. That the fact that I was able to adapt to almost every personality type and almost every life situation meant that God could really use me to reach others. And He has, don't get me wrong, but at what cost? Here I am, at almost 30 years old and I honestly have a very faint idea of who I really am as a person. How does that happen? How do you get to this point in your life and feel like a complete stranger to yourself? I look around at this life that I live, and honestly it's not a bad one at all, and I feel like a total stranger. I feel as though every le singthing I do every day of my life is a lie because I know that I am not living the life I should be living. I am a fraud. I am an impostor. I am posing as a 29 year old, fairly successful woman that lives in a nice house, drives a decent car and is married to a decent enough guy. I have a great family that I am close with and I have great friends that I love very much. And yet, somehow, it all feels fake. I walk through this house and it doesn't feel like home. I talk to my husband and try to live a normal life and yet he feels like a total stranger. I spend time with my friends and family but at the same time, I feel as though they really have no idea who I really am.

Very few people know that I want to be a writer more than just about anything in this world. In fact, very few of them even know I write. When I do finally let out some of the thoughts and dreams that I keep locked up tight inside, their mouths say "you should really pursue that" but their eyes indicate that they are laughing at me on the inside.



If I were to be honest with myself, I think that even as a small child I knew I wanted to be a writer and a story teller. I mean, I spent half of my childhood making up stories just to entertain myself because frankly, I was bored out of my mind! I think that if anyone had actually taken even a moment to look at the patterns I was exhibiting, they would have realized that I was just full of stories waiting to get out. But, because no one taught me how to tap in to that part of myself, it came out in the form of constant rapid talking and lies. Not lies intended to get myself into or out of trouble, really, but lies that accomplished nothing other than having something to say and talk about. If someone had at any point given me pen and paper and said "Here, write out whatever you are thinking about, no matter how silly it sounds", who knows how I would have ended up. But it was just assumed that I was one of those kids that made up stories. It was a part of myself that I was conditioned to do away with and break myself of. It's a shame, really.



I'm not really sure why all of this is starting to dawn on me, to be honest. I wasn't really seeking an understanding of that particular part of my life but I can honestly say that I think that is where the problem really started. I was conditioned to stop being who I really was, which was an extremely creative kid with lots to say, and made to feel like I should be a more "realistic" kid.



God, can any of this be undone? Can this part of myself be fixed? I sure hope so.



That's all for now, I am sure there will be more tomorrow.



God Bless~Nichole