I have never submitted or published something I have written. I often think that anything I have to say has been said a million times in one way or another. I have nothing unique to bring to the table, so why waste my time and others time, by thinking I have something important to say? Doesn't everyone think they have a unique lens to the world and can offer something others cannot? I am too much of a realist at the forefront of my mind to think I could have an impact.
However, there is an idealist buried deep down in my mind and soul...an orphaned child who read every book she could get her hands on that talked about magic, fantasy, adventure, heroism and true love. The kid who stayed up late at night thinking that Peter Pan and Wendy were just around the corner, so they could not fall asleep. The child who spent her 12th birthday waiting all night for Hagrid to take her to buy her first wand. The teenager at 16/17 who just KNEW her differences would all be explained away by some hidden family secret and extraordinary abilities that would make all the pain, suffering and loneliness worth it.
When that did not happen, that little girl had to face reality and realize that the only magic in her life would be her mind. Her only wand would be her books. Her only escape would be her education. So, she put down the books that fulfilled her inner childhood dreams and picked up the ones that made her face the realities of the world...the horrors...the atrocities...the discrimination and exploitation...the injustices and inequities...shouldn't this have made her feel more “normal,” and give her a sense of belonging? She was not alone in this world...a great majority of her fellow human beings also suffered as she did...and many had it way worse. Shouldn't this have fueled her desires to be extraordinary in a way that allowed her to dive full force into making the world a better place? Maybe. But it didn't.
As she faced these realities, she felt less and less in control. She truly embodied her childhood as a necessary means to an extraordinary life...that she was built for greater than this world has to offer. That she had to suffer first to get there. That it all meant something. But the harsh reality was actually that she was very normal. Not unique. Not overly talented. Not brave. Not built for greatness, but for a mundane life surrounding by manipulation, greed, hate and violence at every corner, threatening to consume and squash the inner magic her soul still tries to cling to. Like a leave taken by the wind, she feels her magic fade into the distance and the only thing that has replaced it is deep inner turmoil that expresses itself outwardly as anxiety. An ungrateful and bitter being that can see what they wish they had and what they actually have. Who can recognize the gratefulness they should feel in all their privileges, accomplishments and journeys that many others never get to experience...but who cannot FEEL the gratefulness, pride, worthiness, or sense of accomplishment for where they are at. They are stuck. Trapped in their inner childhood that represents both extraordinary suffering but also extraordinary longing for more. When will this life be enough for her?
When will I be enough for me? –@afeduphouseelf