I woke up with the Tarzan song stuck in my head.
You know the one.
That song that makes everyone cry at weddings.
I woke up in an “okay” mood but I’m tired.
Probably from staying up too late watching reruns of “Grey’s Anatomy”.
It was my go-to show for distraction in my early 20’s.
I woke up with an emptiness swirling in my chest.
An emptiness that screamed, “You still haven’t hit the core of who you are.”
This isn’t new information – this has been known.
Under all these layers of conformity and people-pleasing, is me.
This “hiding” thing is no longer working.
But discovering the core of who I am means letting people be wrong about me.
It means potentially letting people who have me in rigid boxes lose me.
And that scares me.
Because if I’m fully “me” – then what?
Does keeping anyone around matter if it means completely losing myself instead?
I have to shed some of the weight.
I know that I’m not alone in the act of hiding.
People do this to fit in, to be “likable”, and easy to digest.
People hide because they’re scared of being seen.
They’re scared of being alone.
From a logical standpoint, it feels silly.
Because the world doesn’t revolve around any one person.
People will criticize you when your light lets their hidden shadows be felt.
People don’t always like reminders of what they’re avoiding.
The truth is – I know I’m far louder than I’ve been.
I know I’m what people call “too much.”
Because sometimes “me” does come out and people tell me such.
They tell me I intimidate people.
So I get small again.
While at the same time asking myself why the fuck I care.
Because those aren’t my people if I can’t be “me” around them.
This way of “being” is killing my soul.
It’s making me gray and bland.
Being quiet makes other people comfortable.
Avoiding the “cringe” makes the masses like you more.
But the truth is – we’re all a little cringe.
It’s a stupid word that makes insecure people feel safe.
It’s their reminder that they’re also playing small for a slice of “acceptance”.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I still crave outside validation.
Maybe it’s the artist in me.
Maybe it’s the younger me who desperately needed a hug.
The girl who wanted someone to say, “It’s okay to be you.”
But I’m an adult now.
And I carry all the layers of the child, girl, and woman I’ve been.
It’s my job as an adult to say those words to me.
It’s my job as an adult to do what younger me couldn’t.
And my facade is cracking.
I’m spilling over the rim of the glass where I’ve kept my potential.
A week in Tennesee without distractions helped.
It helped me get in touch with emotions I’ve been avoiding.
I felt seen and vulnerable in the best ways.
Like I was coming out of the cacoon I stuffed myself into.
I woke up today with the Tarzan song stuck in my head.
The one that makes everyone cry at weddings.
There’s a reason it makes everyone cry at weddings.
But the sun’s out today for the first time in days.
The sun’s out today and I love you.
I love you and this is a start.
Photo by Kalen Emsley on Unsplash