All my life I have thought and thought. I have thought so much that I couldn’t sleep or function somehow it felt like I had to figure things out, be prepared and do the correct thing in the right way. The times that I have made choices and taken action that were mistakes were things that I could burry for a time but they would rear their ugly head and overwhelm me.
Part of the thing that made these mistakes have such power over me was that I had an image I wanted the girl lady person who did everything right. As a child I was terrified of not meeting others expectations, relay racing was the worst thing I could ever contemplate in elementary school; everyone counting on me and screaming run run run faster, I was not athletic at all, and the prospect of disappointing my classmates tormented me.
In High school I found the attitude listen to them and repeat what they say and you will pass. I would write tests for myself and write them and predict if I would pass and was generally happy with a pass often I would get the same mark on my test as the teacher‘s. Up until high school everything that I shone in was taken from me and I didn’t see much in myself that was worthy. When I‘d put myself out there I would get shot down and be mortified by my stupidity. For example the class was assigned to write a descriptive sentence in English and in my vigor to make a difficult sentence I wrote one that did not all have the same tense. Mrs. Robertson demolished me by speaking scathingly about how poorly the sentences were written and then she read mine out loud and handed them back. I was in grade twelve and you can be sure I never risked anything in her class again. Peer pressure is out there but my pressure was my own making.
Part of me strove to do what I thought others wanted, another part of me learned that all I needed to do was listen and regurgitate what I was told and that was a pass. I Had two teachers that saw into me and unfortunately I did not grasp the opportunity they presented and I learned to hide my light under a bushel. The Unfortunate thing about hiding a lit candle under a bushel is the end product is burnt. By striving to be normal and placing such value on not being embarrassed I wound up in a nutshell.
Finding myself in that nutshell is what I am writing about and as I start I am worried what will my family think and do I want them to know all my secrets can I handle my mistakes being out there can my family take what I have to share about them will I be accepted in light of all this. And that my dear is the Question
Will I be Accepted?