I'm gonna let it shine.

I had a dream a few days ago. It was a doozy. All layered and vivid and filled with stuff my unconscious self apparently wants me to deal with. Including my fear of writing.

Ghandi once said that it was our light we were afraid of, not our inadequacy. What I'm discovering is that the light I shine tends to hurt people's eyes and they just want me to shut down. And so I did. But I'm getting tired of hiding within my own life.

It only took one person to tell me that I was acting ungrateful, ugly and spoiled to shut me down. It only took one person to tell me that what I was writing was hurting her feelings to stop me from heading to the keys for my own comfort. I have trouble letting others take responsibility for their own feelings and assume that I actually do have that much power.

I hold these fantasies that, someday, after this or that person is gone, I will be able to come out of hiding. I can tell my stories. I can share myself fully. I won't have to edit myself or maintain a facade that makes others comfortable. My life feels as though it is on pause until then. Which is the definition of enmeshment. Murray Bowen would have a field day with me.

It feels important that I begin here, again. Start the process again. Just sit here in this expressive space and just sit, if that's what I need to do again. Epilepsy and critical family members found my blind spot and sent me to the sidelines for quite a while. I'm limping back.