I was about four years old when I realized societal norms and rules were like handcuffs tethering me to an ideology I didn't understand and certainly didn't subscribe to. Okay, when I was four, my vocabulary didn't include fancy words like societal, but my sentiment was the same: No, I don't fucking want to. And I won't.
And yes, at four, I said fuck.
My mother dressed me in these frilly gowns and sparkly shoes, and she'd garnish my long, knotted hair with ribbons, which was like a fresh hell of modernized scalping. She tirelessly attempted to refurbish my tomboy exterior into a polished little girl that teacher types and church ladies would give a nod of approval to.
There was no girly dress that would camouflage my indecorously fierce spirit. I've never navigated society's expectations of "nice girls" well. I didn't know how to sit when I wanted to dance. I didn't know how to ignore the underdog when the popular kids ganged up on him. And, I certainly never grasped how to refrain from a good fuck you when someone deserved it. No matter who was witness.
My demeanor was disconcerting to my mom, who was the icon of people pleasing, subservience and selflessness. She buried her own desires and suffocated her dreams to ensure everyone in her periphery was satisfied with her performance. She starved herself in front of others because ladies don't eat. She silenced her voice to ensure no one was in disagreement with or offended by her opinion because ladies don't speak. She worked jobs she hated for misogynist men she despised and quietly nodded and did as she was told to avoid conflict or provoking disapproval because ladies are secretaries and phone answerers.
Other people's opinion of her was always paramount to her own opinions, her own happiness, her own intuition or imagination. It's like she froze her spirit and danced in the shadows of everyone else's vibration. But actually not, because she never danced, fearful someone may judge her.
At four years old, I already knew I wasn't like other girls. I favored digging in the dirt naked by myself to Barbies with playmates. I preferred male classmates to girls; animals to people; no to yes; outbursts to rationality; disapproving shock from boldness to praise for acquiescence.
When I was three, I'd close my eyes at night to disappear from all the "no's" and "stops" by flying. I could feel the wind on my face and vividly recall the bird's eye view of everything beneath me like a movie in my head. It was like a Google Earth video game before video games and Google were invented.
In these dreams, I could experience my body floating through the air, untethered to the ground, to my stifling world, to reality. It was the most exhilarating feeling of freedom. Some nights it was so intense, I seriously thought I died and went to heaven.
As years passed, and I was encouraged to acquiesce to rules penned by controlling humans unsupportive of imagination, superpowers or authentic voices, my ability to fly died.
After I graduated countless institutional interactions that numbed my spirit with their stifling protocols - school, corporate jobs, relationships with narcissists - I miraculously reignited a tiny spark of my authentic self. Bit by bit, I resurrected my psyche.
Junior year of college, I abandoned my love of Greek Mythology after a professor gave me a D- for interpreting the deities differently than he instructed me to. Mythology was my escape from reality, my new flying, and the powerfully independent deities infused me with fantastical hope. Yet I walked away from this pleasure because some asshole I didn't even know told me I was loving mythology wrong.
Decades later, I realized the academical mythology professor was powerless to influence me. I bestowed him that power, and standing on the crumbling remnants of the Acropolis, I reclaimed it.
It's time for us to reclaim ourselves. Stop abiding by rules that don't suit or empower us. Stop letting other's opinions of us influence the precious time we were gifted. Learn to fly again. Spread our wings and soar into our own future.
God gave us an amazing intuition - the superpower we call a gut instinct that always reveals its astonishing accuracy in hindsight. Trust that intuition to be your guide. It knows you better than anyone. Invest in your imagination. Nourish your fantasies. Thrive in your bucket list. Intuition is so much more powerful than imitation.
You weren't put on this Earth to do what someone else already does. You were put here to do what you want to do. How you want to do it.
I look at the dozens of jobs where I was fucking miserable. Where I was nasty and rude to my family because I spent 8-10 hours a day gasping for air, surrounded by humans I'd never chose to be around. A job where I granted some narcissistic dick the power to be the architect of my day, my year, my family time.
As kids, our imaginations are on fire. Then society tells us no. And don't do that. And you can't. We believe these random people who don't even like us.
The no's and the you cannot's quickly extinguish our imagination. Suffocate our intuition. Make us second-guess our own thoughts. And like any flame, once it's out, reigniting it is hard work.
Reignite your imagination, and stay away from anyone who threatens to smother it. Be the champion of your intuition. Make your own fucking rules. Because if you don't play life by your own rules, one day you'll look back and ask yourself why? Why did I spend my one precious journey on Earth playing by other people's rules?
There's only one you. And we'd all love to meet her.
stormborns
blakekathryn
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
baratheonpilled