A few things have happened in my life recently that have made me realize how attached I am to certain outcomes, certain people and the past. I never realised that I was a hoarder until the past few weeks...after the random people invading our property and privacy a few weeks ago, I decided to clean out our garage...
I had FIVE giant containers filled with at least 50 shoe boxes of "memories". I had kept every birthday card ever given to me, every letter ever written, every special toy or gift or momento, along with complete random crap that I don't know why I ever kept in the first place. I have about 18 diaries starting from when I was 8 or 9. My current diary has been in use since my pregnancy with River...I don't get too much time to write to myself anymore.
Going through my life bought up a lot of emotions. I read words that made me sob my heart out. Reading about the little girl that missed her daddy, the girl that told herself in every entry over 3years that she was fat, stupid and had had no friends. Reading about a girl that couldn't figure out her place in the world, her role to play and didn't think she was good enough for anything. I read about the fun outings with my friend who is no longer here, the first love I ever truly had, the best friends I could have ever made. I read the pathetic words of a heartbroken young adult who should have never let a certain young man in her life. Read about being homeless, jobless and directionless. My life has been colorful and I am very grateful to have the words that tell my story from my perspective at each age. There are whole diaries I would never want my kids to read...especially the ones about boys!
The funniest letters were from Tara and Hollie. It's easy to see why we became friends. The loveliest letters are from Sarah who is one of my oldest friends.
I had to throw out the love letters that I think I kept to validate that SOMEONE wanted me at some stage. I found this the hardest but most cleansing thing to do. Especially throwing out the letters from an ex husband. There was so much pain in letting go of those words. I don't know why. I am just accepting it.
Now I keep the words written by my fiancé, because while there aren't many, I don't need a reminder of what was. I am living the love each day. I keep the words written by my friends, because they are funny and inspiring and remind me of happy times. I keep the pictures drawn by my own children.
I won't let myself be defined by my past. There is a lot of hurt there, as I suppose there is for a lot of people. And while I may not have always been the happiest or most independent, while I may not have always been the best person I could have been, it is very clear that I always wanted to be, that I always tried.
The words in this blog won't mean very much to anyone really. Just like I suppose my opinions or thoughts on most things. If I can give my children any advice after looking over my life, it is just this: just be. Be who you are and be ok with it. It doesn't really matter how many friends you make, just that you are a good friend to those you have. It doesn't matter what you look like as long as you treat your body well, be kind to it and nourish it. It doesn't matter what happens to you, but it matters how you react (I promise I will do my best to protect you, give you the tools to value yourself and help you deal with your pain). It won't matter how many things you have...things don't last unless you hoard them around like baggage. What does matter? love matters, YOU matter.