She writes again....

well technically she never stopped, she just stopped sharing it with her audience. for a lot of reasons, but those reasons are about as relevant as what i've been up to since you last heard from me.
my journey has been my journey and for a while it needed to be private, and a lot of it still does. my time has been well spent, and purposeful and as i get ready to embark on the next piece of finding who i am in this moment i feel like its time to share the words that spin around inside my head and make their way into my art and into those that are in my daily circle. you see, i've learned - keep your circle close and tight, not very many people are are as interested in your life as the amount of people who want to watch, to see your successes and watch your failures.

I got the opportunity to work an event at a high school recently. They participated in Rachels Challenge. First of all it was amazing. Second of all, I really wish every high school participated in this event. The event brought an authenticity that is so rare in today's society. It brought challenges to students and reminded the nerds that the jocks are just like them, and it reminded the girl who isn't so pretty that that popular cheerleader who she thought was perfect, might not be so perfect after all. It was team building, and awakening and inspiring. Rachel was the first victim in the Columbine shooting of 1999. Her peers loved her and she knew, in her young life, that she would make a difference. Little did she know, that she continues to make a difference, challenging those who participate to start a chain reaction. Do something today, smile at a stranger, help someone when they drop something, or that girl in the back of the room, having lunch by herself- don't let her be alone.

Do something, and you never know when that something leads to something else and then to something else, and a chain reaction has begun.

One of the things that I personally experienced from this event, was the reminder of how far I have come. How tight I wore my mask, how I gripped so hard to never let anyone see who I really was. I presented perfect, always, and I hid the real me. I never wanted to appear vulnerable. I never wanted to anyone to see I had any emotion besides happy. And that is such an awful way to live life. It was interesting to watch how many of the participants wore masks, afraid to show anything but strength or perfection. But then about halfway thru the day, the masks slipped down. You saw tears, belly-laughing and you saw vulnerability. It was beautiful.
My mask hasn't been on for a long time. It feels uncomfortable when I put it on, and oddly when I do wear it, it comes with this slight nervous lisp. Loving who I am, flaws and all, is a journey and such a long process. Progress, not perfection, but man I look back and see the girl that presented herself like a china doll and I see the woman I am now, messy bun, glasses, footsie pajamas and a glass of wine;  knowing that I have let the walls down, shown people who I am and watched them love me anyway and I smile.