Wings.

All of my life, I have been the "good girl."  I followed everyone's rules.  I killed myself in order to live up to everyone else's expectations.  When I didn't meet those expectations, rather than acknowledge that I am human, I beat myself up over it.  I took it on as a personal failure.  Instead of recognizing that sometimes people just set the bar too high for ANYONE to meet, I made the assumption that there was something inherently wrong with me.  Believe me, my head knows how absolutely ridiculous this is, but it's hard to change 30-some years of bad habits.  I am, however, consciously working on it.

Something happened between high school and college...I still haven't been able to put my finger on just what happened, but that is when I REALLY began to lose myself.  I slowly began to fade into the background.  I never had a crazy high self-esteem or anything, but what self-worth I did have slipped away.  I was just a secondary character in the story of life and my only function was to assist others in their respective stories.

But, lately I feel something funny happening.  I feel a spark igniting where there previously was darkness.  Furthermore, not only am I starting to feel a renewed zest for life, but I am also recognizing just how dull and mundane I have allowed things to get for myself.  I am beginning to realize the importance of ME and I am actually standing up for myself (sometimes at the expense of others - WHAAAAAAT?) in order to get what I need.

Now, this does not mean that things are perfect.  For example, with all of these realizations/revelations, comes a great shift in myself, as you can imagine.  My style of dress has changed quite a bit.  (I'm wearing shorts this summer for the first time in...I don't even know when).  I'm taking much more care to put together an outfit rather than throwing on a clean t-shirt and jeans.  My style of makeup has changed.  (I bought RED lipstick and liquid eye liner for the first time ever!).  And I'm seriously considering some body modification - namely in the form of a lip piercing and and an extensive tattoo on my arm.

But, here's where my my old habits came creeping back.  Last weekend, I basically found myself asking The Mister permission to get my lip pierced.  And, back in our old habits, rather than "allowing" me to do whatever I want to, he suggested that I wait a little to make sure that it's what I REALLY want to do.

No.  I am not a child.  I am an adult.  I am an adult who has been pushed around and crammed into this perfect little box for far too long.  I'm getting my effing lip pierced at my very next opportunity.

Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, I feel like I am finally finding my wings.