The journey to self-discovery is turning out a lot differently than I presumed it would be. it isn’t roses and rainbows and cute quotations from Instagram posts or even motivational videos that leave you ecstatic the first few seconds after watching them. It’s proving to be a slippery slope where the only way you can go is down. Swimming in muddy waters. You build yourself up throughout the years. You plan and dream about the kind of life you want for yourself.
You visualize the person you long to be, throwing empowering adjectives here and there as if you’re making up an avatar, then you spend every waking hour fighting to be that person and have their life.
You do it so often, and so blindly that sometimes you lose touch with your reality. Tragically, sometimes you even lose track of the person you are now. The person who is present in your life and is split between the rosy dream and the painful reality. What happens when all these things unfold?
You start to become someone who is a bit of both. A woman you don’t recognize when you look in the mirror.
She’s growing under your skin and fighting to be le out. She’s the product of pain and struggle. She’s wise and as real as could be. She’s quiet and reserved. A little bit selfish and a lot more distant. Her eyes don’t sparkle with the fire of a thousand suns like they used to, they have grown darker to hide their depth. Her smile is no longer open and inviting. It’s reserved and almost never there, like a long distant relative. She is not brave. She’s hungry. she’s starving to find meaning in this small existence of hers. So she lies low, like unprovoked fire. She is present and waiting, sitting on a throne of rubble and stones. A stranger to even herself.