My skin

It’s mine, it’s my temple, my property

It’s my canvas, my blank slate, my book

This journey of acceptance should not have taken this long, this journey of discovery should have been done without caution

Why does one take so long to be comfortable? Why does one not love themselves sooner?

I’m almost 30, I should have been more fearless, I should have said “no” more often, I should have tried new things sooner

But fear. . .

It can eat you alive, it makes you do crazy things, it can make you lock away parts of yourself

Do we ever really know ourselves? Do we ever really immerse ourselves with ourselves? Why does personal acceptance take longer for some? Could it be the influences that surround us? Could it be our families or friends? Could it be a disturbed illusion of ourselves?

I’ve hidden parts of myself for years. Things my husband knows, some friends are aware, but I don’t share pieces with anyone, not even with my own family.

I’ve always monitored or censored parts of myself, my mind, thoughts, habits. When I think it’s safe, I’ll pull back the curtain and show a sliver of what could be underneath. . .

9 times out of 10, I’ll throw the curtain shut the moment of scrutiny fills the air.

Is it safer to hide who you are? Is is safer to live with the curtain open?

My tattoos tell stories, show pieces, fragments of who I am. My passions, my love, my beliefs.

I’m not done with my spiritual journey, I’m not done with my moving art gallery, I’m not done living

The rarity of finding happiness, genuine, glorious, beautiful freedom of happiness starts with yourself. The joy, the energy, the infectiousness of a smile, a laugh,  watching the glow wash over the recipient, it all starts with yourself. Everything stars with one’s self.

I know what parts of me are strong, I know what parts of me are weak, I know I could use a good polishing, but this is my skin. My life. My mind. My heart. I’m finally happy in my skin. For five years I’ve been happy, almost two of those years I’ve spent married, the hardest job next to parenting, being married and being happy is always a game of give and take. But I’m happy. I may not have accomplished much with my life but my life isn’t over.

To live each day as if it were your last is a good way to go. I, personally, tryntonlive everyday to the fullest. But I just take each day as it comes and try to end on a happy note. Some days are harder than others but I’m comfortable.

I feel I found my role in this world. I’m a mother to one, a bonus parent to another, and a wife. I put my dreams on hold for awhile but that all ends this year. I’m going back to school. I will be advanced with my education. I will be a little more complete. But this is the part I don’t like, it’s a little uncomfortable. But, I have to do this, I want to do this, it’s a journey to find me, new parts of me, old parts, fuzzy gray area of the brain parts.

I’ve heard a saying: when God wants you to grow, he makes you uncomfortable.

I believe it.

But for now, my skin is my blanket of comfort. My mind is free with its own thoughts. If some can’t handle parts of me, they don’t deserve to know that part. I will be open, honest, and accepting, even when the other party does not do the same.

So how comfortable are you?

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