Me, Set Free

"I look forward to seeing what you set free looks like."

These are the words spoken to me by loving and ever so supportive husband while on one of our recent date nights. (Yes, we went from not having any in almost a year to two in the same weekend!) Being one of the most important people in my life, as well as my best advocate, I decided to let him in on my tiny little secret: the new blog. He was surprised (considering I've been anti-everything-writing for years now) and excited. He asked why and I said something like, "Oh you know, to help me find my Self. To see if I can still write. To begin to put myself out there. To try and see if it helps me feel closer to God, closer to life, closer to you, my dreams, my Self..." You know, nothing too major...

:)

So obviously, I have big plans for you, m' dear Blog.

Interestingly enough, I stumbled across my old blog from 2006 recently and it certainly sent me into a bit of a tailspin. First I was intrigued, then I felt shame and embarrassment and then I felt sad and then relieved and then finally, I landed in this space of feeling really proud. It's quite strange. The posts were so raw and risky and honest and unapologetic. It's like this girl (was it really me?) had a glimpse of her Self and was not sorry. She had no shame. I hear anger in her words but I hear hope. I hear hate but I hear love. I hear a white-knuckles, do-it-or-die-kind of commitment to authenticity.

And I am undone by it.

I remember being her. I remember loving it and hating it. I remember letting her out. She was vibrant in glory with unabashed zest and a real grudge against life. She was a take-me-or-leave-me kinda girl. I don't think she ever fully came to embrace all that was her being but I think she tasted freedom like she had never known. She had no idea it wouldn't last.

It wasn't long before I quieted her. Stuffed her. Sanded off the rough edges. Made her more pleasing. More balanced. More mature. And also more insecure, more ashamed, and more lost. She turned into me.

I envy her a bit, I do. I also believe that somewhere in the midst of these two parts, is a whole. A whole that is raw and risky and honest and unapologetic. A whole that is vibrant in glory with unabashed zest for life. A whole that has grieved those stories that took pain and ache and agony and turned them into anger and a shaking fist. A whole that is gentle and kind towards her Self and others. A whole that writes, speaks, prays, and dances with passion and gusto. A whole that breathes freedom and embraces humanity. A whole that says "I love me for me. And I hope you do too but it's really ok if you don't. Because I am enough."