I think I finally know exactly what I “want to be when I grow up”. I want to be a creator. I want to make every moment that I can in my life, breathe magic.
I want to become that person that hugs everyone and helps them feel more welcomed. I want to become someone that isn’t scared to scream, until my vocal cords sound raw, about my passions. I want to become the person that I know I am inside. The one that existed before the childhood trauma, the toxic friends and abusive relationships. The person that always asked questions and didn’t apologize for it. The person that explored her talents without hesitation. The person that loved and flowed without feeling a constant need for guidance. Yup, I finally discovered what I want to be, myself.
I remember drawing an elaborate plan with me working as a business owner. I remember the energy little me put behind it. I was so excited to show my mom but I also remember her not really being enthusiastic about it, and that hurting my feelings. So I took the drawing and crumbled it up then tossed it in my Grandma’s recycling bin.
I remember telling friends and family that I wanted to be an artist, but that wasn’t “realistic” and art is “just a hobby”.
I don’t know at what point I finally stopped listening to my inner child. I don’t know when I taped their mouth shut and closed them away inside. It’s sad thinking about it now. For years, they were lost and suppressed. Trying to escape only to be met with trauma once passed the walls; forced to retreat inside again.
Well, two decades later, I’m breaking down those walls, with every tool that I have in my box. I’m refusing to keep them silent any longer. I’m letting my inner child loose. If you’re reading this, I hope you’re ready. Shit is about to get the best kind of weird.