Something snapped in me today.
Something about a lifetime spent trying to please, trying to be a good girl, trying to do the right thing. Always trying to be more like this or more like that, according to judgements of anybody and anything. Trying to explain myself, over, and over, and over, till I myself would completely forget my reason for doing anything.
The real reason, which would almost certainly be: I didn’t think, I just did, I am sorry.
Something in me today decided that I’d had enough. 43 is arguably a mature enough age to say you know what? I am what I am. I have done good, in my time, I have done bad. I have been kind, and I have been cruel. I know that I ALWAYS tried to do my best, I never meant to hurt anyone.
I know that in a lifetime I have always loved and trusted first, until people worked so hard to make me lose that love and that trust and even then, I would always, ALWAYS be ready to give them a second, third, fourth, nth chance.
When my brother allegedly first got rid of all my journals, I was desperate. All that I had written , since I was a little girl, all gone. They were my court case, they were something I would read many years from now, or someone else might, and pass judgement on. Has she been good. Was that her fault. Was she just bad, uncaring, selfish, cruel, a bully?
I was desperate because I felt that all the reasons why I was like I was were enclosed in those journals. And then I carried on writing, here and there. I tried novelising, but it was useless: my life just kept happening, things kept happening, I myself didn’t even know why things kept happening to me and why I kept making things happen.
Years of crying like an idiot because I felt unfairly judged. It’s time I stopped. That’s what snapped.
I’ve been through misery, trauma, death and destruction than most of the people I have ever spoken to in my life. I have also been through, received and given joy and wellbeing. I have paid for anything I may have done or will do ten times over, and the fear of retaliation or punishment has NEVER been the reason for me not doing something. My conscience is crystal clear.
On the other hand, I have stopped myself over and over again. Trying to do the right thing. Changing my mind because so and so said that or the other.
I want to try, I may fail, but I want to try and just wake up one morning, make a decision I’ve actually been thinking about for months, and live to regret it or be pleasantly surprised by it. I make a decision and despite my best efforts somebody might get hurt, as always, as for everyone. People’s standards for me are higher than they realise, and the one person that sets those standards is none other than yours truly.
So perhaps I should stop. I let you judge me, or be indifferent to me. I let you make the wrong assumptions about me, or know me better than I know myself. I honestly don’t care anymore. At least I hope. I hope I don’t change my mind tomorrow. It makes my head spin.