We Are Who We Are

At one point or another in our lives, we have all tried to conform to standards that aren't our own.  It can be something as simple as wearing our hair long because our significant other prefers it that way or buying the latest handbag because fashion magazines tell us we must have it or it can be something more personal like repressing a key part of ourselves for the comfort of someone else.  There are different levels of "giving in" and while some are relatively harmless, others can make us lose who we are.

There is nothing wrong with changing to improve ourselves or for growth - I am all for that - but we should never change something about us that WE (and lots of others) love.  Let's face it, it is usually women that feel the need to change for a man.  I don't like it, don't agree with it but for some reason, that is how it winds up and rarely is it ever worth making the change.  Being our authentic selves is as important to our existence as any other essential in our lives.  I have known people in long-term relationships where who they are and what they want out of life is lost because they are supporting their spouse's dreams or because children need constant attention or a job makes them lose their identity.  It happens to people in all walks of life.  So why does this happen to even those that seem to have it all together?  Maybe the answer is that we need to keep things in balance.  We should never stop being who we are and we should not stop pursuing our interests.  Relationships and love should support who we are rather than make us lose ourselves.  While I see nothing wrong with giving someone we love all the support and devotion we can, it should be reciprocated.  I don't know about you, but I don't want to be a watered down version of me.  I want to be the smart, quick-witted, honest, adventurous woman that I am.  Being anything less than that is a disservice to myself. 

Walking on eggshells around a potential mate is not something we should have to do if they are the "one" for us.  We should always be ourselves and if who we are isn't appreciated, then the person we were considering isn't the right person to be in our world and they certainly aren't worthy of receiving our heart.  Loving ourselves is the most important relationship we will ever have.  We should whole-heartedly embrace all of our flaws, quirks and idiosyncrasies because they make us who we are.  And who we are is wonderful!

Smiling,
V~

In The Beginning...

One of the most difficult things to contend with is to feel passion for something and yet have one of the most influential and important people in one's life show complete disinterest.  That has been the sort of relationship I have had for most of my life with my father.  It's been that way for as long as I can remember and it hurts as much today as it did when I was eight and had my heart set on being an author.

 
I use to write books when I was a child.  Not stories but books complete with tables of content.  I would spend endless hours sitting at my off-white French Provencial-style desk writing in notebooks that I would buy at the local five and dime.  I would write in pen, pencil, marker - whatever writing instrument I could find.  I clearly remember one summer evening when I was in my bedroom scribbling out a story and my father entered my room to check up on me.  He asked what I was doing and I proudly said that I was writing a book.  He asked me why and I told him that I wanted to be an author.  He laughed.  And when he finished laughing he said "do you know how hard it is to be a published author?  It's not likely to happen".  He said that I should stop writing and go play with my brother.  So I did because our parents are supposed to know what is best, right?  I believed him.

The writing continued but it became more secretive.  I pretended that I was working on a school project or on a report for school.  A few years passed and we started to discuss future plans for me.  He asked me what field I wanted to pursue.  I said once again that I wanted to be an author.  His reaction was similar to the last except this time there was the addition of the phrases "you still haven't gotten over that idea?  What did I tell you about that?"  But this time, things were different.  I became so upset that I gathered up all of my journals, notebooks, scraps of paper in binders and tossed them in the garbage bin outside.  My bedroom bookshelf was virtually empty with the exception of a few books from "published" authors.  How could my dad possibly be wrong?  I stopped writing for many years after that.  I enjoyed writing research papers, poetry, creative writing for classes when it was necessary but beyond that, I pushed any thoughts of writing aside. 

Several years passed before I even entertained the idea of writing again (although I used to have recurring dreams of winning a Nobel or Pulitzer Prize for literature and my father FINALLY realizing that he was wrong).  In fact, I was in my early twenties before I considered the idea again.  I made the decision to move to Austin and perhaps dabble in screenwriting.  My mother was supportive of my decision and continues to be one of my strongest supporters (she managed to rescue some of my early writings from the trash collectors).  My father on the other hand, was less than enthused but I moved anyway.  And I have been writing ever since. 
 

My writing has taken on many different incarnations since moving to Austin - screenplays, book manuscript, blogs, journal entries - but I love them all for different reasons.  My father knows that I am writing again and that I am involved in many writing groups in my city.  He thinks it's a waste of time, doesn't take an active interest in it and has never read a single blog or script page I have written.  And I'm fine with that.  It still hurts and probably always will.  I may never win a Pulitzer but that's okay.  I'm doing what I love and that is what matters.  Knowing that my words touch SOMEONE out there makes me happy.  And that is the most important thing to me.  

Smiling,

V~