I don’t believe in life lock

You know what life lock is, right? They were one of the first identity theft companies out there–kind of like home security for self. Well, it took me 38 long years, but I realized that I had been life locking so hard that I hadn’t secured anything for myself but an outdated identity that neiter served me or any purpose that I desired. I had become miserable and petty trying to secure something like “who I was” like a river–only to realize that I had blocked off my flow.

I have always battled with my identity, starting first with all the things I could be–then relentlessly paring away all the things I became certain I was not.

That last bit has taken all the decades I’ve been alive and all the extra change of my days up until this past year. I found myself exhausted from trying to whittle some form out of myself, making barely a dent in the vain attempts to extract who I was not.  I defined myself solely on disavowal–what I disliked, disapproved, found distasteful. My haughtiness had become completely insufferable, particilarly to me.

So I took a break and decided to just be.

I discovered that I was more superficial than I pretended to be. I love manicures and pedicures and the smooth look of a well made face. I enjoy a decent wine, a raunchy joke, and a little devilish gossip. I like talking to people more than I have allowed myself to, still enjoyed stupid books about romance and intrigue or those smutty reality shows where women jump across tables and fling ice water instead of fight for real. I realized that I love vintage cut dresses, long flowing skirts, and all things black. I learned that tofu wasn’t that bad, that jackfruit was freaking awesome, and that I could in fact live life without a porkchop or meat of any kind.

Beyond the supericial things, I recognized that who I am is so much more fluid than the rock solid “I don’t like these things” chick I was accustomed to being. Having shelved myself was just a way of walking out fear of the unknown. I was (despite the bravado I floundered around in) just as scared as the next person about what and who I would find if I actually walked in freedom. And you know what the funny thing is? I am more focused now than I’ve ever been. Goals are solidifying all around me. I see the end now.

Identity really boils down to giving yourself the space to just be. If you can stand the rain of an ever evolving self, the possibilities are endless. Once I  stopped trying to stick the landing and enjoyed the flight, I have found so much peace and purpose that I cannot contain my glee.

Choosing to be oneself means choosing to live in a state of revision. I have learned to love the uncertainty of this person who I am forever becoming, certain only in what I believe to be God’s eternal pleasure that I am willing and able to leave my comfort zone for untread waters.

My purest identity has become freedom: I want to take nothing with me when I die, having left it all on the table and in your laps and into the atmosphere. Pure energy.


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