Forgetting

Make sure your worst enemy is not living between your own ears. ~Anon

I don’t feel well.  And I haven’t felt well, consistently at least, since sometime last September.  That’s when I forgot myself.  Some people would call it “losing” oneself, but I had already found me.  The past summer was blissful.  I was busy, that’s for sure, and wasn’t able to attend to all my loves like I usually do during the various seasons of the year.  But I was happy, because I had found me once again.  And I had learned to continually look inward rather than to the world for answers when I needed them, comfort when I wanted it, and happiness when I ached for it. 

I re-entered the college atmosphere, and within weeks, I forgot that girl I had already found.  Always a listener, I suddenly started to accept most anything my ears heard.  School became too important.  More important than joy.  Because I had returned to school for yet another degree in order to be able to realize one of my greatest dreams, I suddenly allowed this means by which to reach my dream nearly become more important than the overall dream itself. 

My overall dream is to BE that person I want to be.  Not just dream about her.  She’s not perfect.  She doesn’t always have the right answer, do the right thing, or solve the problem.  But she’s happy with where she’s at, she loves her body and takes care of it to the fullest extent her present situation, and she loves everyone she comes into contact with. 

Slowly, I’m returning to her.  Bit by precious bit, I’m remembering her.  And with each memory, I’m reinstating the values she possesses.  I still screw up.  But I’m not hopeless.  I am me, and I’m remembering that day by day.

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