I hadn't realised how long it's been there. Feeling, watching, witnessing my heart and brain pound, and go numb.
How much has it shaped me, casting my mold for others to see, since early age?
How much has it bent my views, my actions, the course of this river...?
Not sure if it should or would ever run freely...perhaps it would go barging in fiercely through the wilderness, passion and force unreined, leaving deep marks of legacy, even if for no one to see. Or perhaps would see its stamina and strength fade down without any boundaries or limits to debate and feed off of.
It's a shocking realisation to come to terms with. But equally freeing to acknowledge it.
Fear of doing, fear of not doing, fear of risk and implications, and that of dealing with them. Fear of letting go, fear of control. Fear of wanting, no restrictions. Fear of rejection, any level. Fear of criticism. Fear of a cracked mold. Fear of negativism. Fear of fear????
Culture, upbringing, expectations, personality, doesn't really matter now how it came to be. For the past at least.
I wish and hope I can instill in myself and my baby the opposite feeling, but *fear* I'm in too deep to pull myself out of that corset and bring her along.
Yet knowing what I know now makes all the difference. It's the knowing.
Control and compass. A direction.
And hope.
