Finding my truth at the crossroads of "supposed to" and "should"

So, my computer is broken. It's been down for a few weeks, hence my sudden absence. And I was doing so well, too...(insert pouty face here)...with writing on a regular basis.

I tried keeping a paper journal, but it's just not sticking. I know all that stuff about the importance of handwriting things and how it relates to memory (believe me, I use the argument and the research in the classroom all the time), but for me, my brain just moves so much faster than my pen. I need the freedom of the keyboard, because it doesn't slow me down. It's not like I'm taking notes to study for a test. This is sifting. This is learning. This is digging beneath the surface.

So I'm borrowing my son's computer. Which means, I'm free to be honest...more quickly...and to a public audience (because that's weird, I guess). Oddly, I feel like I'm more honest with myself when I talk to my counselor, too, so there's something about connecting with others that somehow brings out my truth.

And my truth isn't pretty.

Speaking of truth and counselors, I pretty much just spilled my darkest qualities at my last appointment. And I've been itching to do it here, too. I'm a dyed in the wool introvert. People (in person) pretty much wear me out. Which is odd, considering that I teach for a living and am surrounded by very needy small people ALL. THE. TIME. Somehow it's different when the people are other people's kids. And it's different when the people are adults who don't expect something from me. I mean, really expect something - like piece of me. If I can just slap on a smile for the public and fulfill my performance obligations, I'm good. I go home at the end of the play and most people are happy with the show. But, I'm beginning to wonder if that's the reason I'm always so fucking exhausted. Because it's an act. I'm doing what's expected, but I'm not being true to myself. I'm not living my truth. Which leads to another completely stressful question: what IS my truth?

What is at the core of me? Who is that girl? And I say "girl" on purpose here, because I don't believe I've ever fully let her be herself and grow into a woman. I don't feel like a woman most of the time. Or maybe it's more that I just don't know what a woman is supposed to feel like.

Which leads me to a quick sacrifice of the words "supposed to" and "should". I've pretty much lived my life stuck at the crossroads of "supposed to" and "should". I've carefully designed my life around what I thought my parents wanted and what my friends would accept. I've read books and watched films, and gone to counseling to learn how to become some better, more polished version of myself. But all I've done is split myself in two. And now, as I realized in my counselor's office the other day, I'm this divided being who can't seem to put herself back together.

And the cracks are multiplying. It's becoming difficult to see myself in the mirror. So many pieces. So much falling apart.

The thing is, I'm so used to looking into that broken mirror, picking the biggest pieces and figuring out how best to rely on those, forgetting the smaller pieces. And now I have this fractured image made up of nothing by small pieces. It's like a giant monochromatic puzzle with hundreds of pieces that someone carefully put in a box out of sight because it's tidier that way. And now I've pulled the box out from under the bed, dumped them on the floor, and have begun sifting through them.

It's hard to feel motivated to do something that seems at first impossible. Especially when you've tried dozens...hundreds..of times before...and failed.

Which leads me to my last point for today. By whose standards is that failure measured? And whose expectations have I so desperately tried to fulfill all these years?

All of us are works in progress. None of us is perfect. But most of us are working our asses off to be the best version of ourselves that we can be. The ticket is, however, to be the best person we want to be. The version of that is truest.

And so today, I set myself this challenge. The day after winter solstice, when the days slowly begin to brighten, I'm going to find my truth. I'm not going to build it. I'm not going to plan it. I'm going to diligently put this puzzle back together. I'm going to look in the mirror, focus on the small pieces, and do my best to accept the distorted image I've created through inattention and neglect.

Today, I'm accepting my fractured self. Because there is beauty in the cracks. Rather than being broken, I'm choosing to see myself as prismatic.

This year (and it begins today) will be about acceptance and rebuilding with the pieces I already have. No adding on more. No seeking new. Instead...digging for diamonds in my own backyard.

Welcome to imperfect.