A pony, a new doll house, a million dollars, a new CD. As a little girl, that's usually what was wished for when I closed my eyes and blew the candles out every September 13th. However, as I grew older the wishes became less materialistic, more sensible, and often times, less about myself. This year, I made no wish. Instead, I made a promise--to be less prideful, and a little more vulnerable.
As hard as it is to admit, I can be a very prideful person when it comes to admitting my feelings. I can admit when I'm wrong and I can be vulnerable through poetry and music, but I often find it hard for me to literally tell someone (other than my family) that I miss them or express how I feel towards them in general. Because of this, I've unintentionally let some important people drift away without them ever knowing just how much they truly meant to me. I avoided being transparent because of the fear of it not being reciprocated, and have instead been left with this feeling of, "Now what do I do?"
But not anymore.
Recently I told someone who I really care about that I missed them and the way we used to be. In return, I got what my gut had told me to expect--a statement reflecting the opposite of my feelings. My initial response stung my pride and I had reverted back to this, "See, this is why I don't admit my feelings" state, but then I took a step back, took a deep breath (literally), and reminded myself of who I really did this for, and that was myself. Had I been regretful, I would have already broken the promise I made less than a month into speaking it into existence. But the fact that I already swallowed my pride and put my most transparent foot forward, I was already one step ahead of where I had been the day before.
Though this is such a process, and consists of more than just admitting feelings to someone I see with a lusty heart, but also those I rather drift apart from, it results in growth as an individual. Stepping out of my comfort zone has never been scarier than now, but something tells me that it will be more than rewarding, because if there's one emotion that keeps us up at night, it's the lack of closure from any situation.
I refuse to go to bed, or out of this world, wondering what could have been. Yes, the truth may hurt, but not knowing is worse.
Mother and writer doing everything she can in one lifetime. You are appreciated.