Truth and Honesty. With me, with you who take some of your time to read this blog of mine.
I am feeling so raw, writing you this. But I feel like it’s time. Now.
Lately, I have been working a lot with the topics of “Who is the real ME“. Yea I know I know, one of the biggest eternal spiritual question. I have been digging for more than a decade and finally feel like I have scratched and peeled most of the layers that have been covering ME up.
I believe that once you’ve reached a certain level in your Soul pathway (the one you walk on life after life after life), you’re given the choice before being born. I should say «choiceS». What you’ll face, in what family you’ll grow in, the challenges and joys. But it does not mean it’s carved in stone, just that what needs to happen will happen and the rest will unfold depending on your choices (see how we always come back to the same topic ?). I do believe in free will.
Because my gut was telling me, since I was a kid, that I was not «like anybody else», I put a mask and built walls all around me. OKay, I don’t bend spoons with my mind (there is no spoon anyway *yes this is a «The Matrix» reference there*), or things out of the blue like this, but it was still floating around. Being what I jokingly call now «half & half», the Brown raised on the White side of my family tree, knowing very little about the branch that gave me my skin color.
When I was a kid, I used to wish I was be blonde with blue eyes. Just to be more blended (however, for the first 8 years of my life, growing up in Paris’ suburbs, it was not an issue for me to be Brown as there are lots of immigrants (several generations) in this part of France) in my surroundings, just to stop the stupid question «Were you adopted ??» (both from classmates AND from their parents).
Who is the real ME ?
There are so many stories I tell myself about what the answer to this question is. Could be. Should be. It can be so damn hard to look at myself in the mirror, actually looking for my Self; and not finding it, not seeing it. It is often like there is a whole world between how I feel inside and what is looking back at me from the mirror. And then I snap a self-portrait of my face, look into my eyes, and I know this is still the same me…
But I am getting there. I know I am somehow finding my way back.
I guess we all have these stories we tell ourselves, over and over; so much and so loud inside that it becomes what we think is our Truths. But they’re not. I say it again: they’re not.
As of today, I still feel giganourmously out of place around people, afraid. Letting people in takes a lot of effort, and is for me a sign of bravery. Letting myself being seen as I really am. The quirky passionate woman, healing the kid I was.
This is me.