“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about un-becoming everything that isn’t really you so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.”
I scribbled this quote on a post-it note a few months ago. It struck a chord and then got buried in the pile of paper that lives on my desk.
Now, I’m pretty sure we start out as fully formed works of art buried in blocks of marble. Life is all about chipping away at that block until we are revealed, perfect, beautiful, glorious. The way we had been all along.
Yesterday for Mother’s Day, I bought my mom a white mug that simply stated, “You Are a Good Mom.”
I wanted her to know that. I wanted to tell her sorry for being such a difficult kid. A moody child. A girl who was perhaps more boy and who came without instructions. (P.S. There was no mug that said all that. Stupid Hallmark.)
I know my mother did the best she could trying to mold me into a respectable young lady. Some 30 years later, I am still trying to undo all of her well-intentioned doing.
I know I am a challenge.
“You know it’s me, not you, right?” I asked.
She nodded her head. She wasn’t didn’t seem convinced.
I try not to apologize for being me.
But I am still difficult and moody.
And there is no rulebook for loving a girl who is perhaps more boy.