Everything is written


You may or may not be surprised to hear that having everything doesn’t just refer to tangible items anymore. We don’t only live in a materialistic world; we live in a world occupied by humans who, want to be you, not just have what you have.  We want to be like people who look happy and say all the right things because being that way means you’re no longer like everyone else. You, seemingly, have it all together.

Being yourself was not widely accepted and following your life purpose (or believing in it) was never something I was taught growing up. Any grand idea I had, there was a reason I couldn’t do it, or achieve it, or be it. I was taught to be grateful to be alive, have a roof over my head, and food on the table. Sure, I understand that the basics are important, but if we’re going to strip it down to bare minimums, let’s talk about being grateful for things far more fulfilling then , and hummus.

For the longest time, I measured my value based on all the things people “thought” I had. As long as I acted like I had the kind of life everyone wanted, people wanted to be me. I was confident (LOL! Oh you funny, funny girl), worked for a company well respected in their field (errr..let’s move on), I had the car (ok yeh, I had a really nice car, that I could hardly afford…), the house (it was a rental), the kind of relationship that seemed picture perfect (sooo faarrr frroommm ittt), and I spent a whole lot of time preaching about how “grateful” I was and the importance of “honoring your spirit” (inside, I was bitter, judgmental and miserable). In the eyes of others, I was so well put together, my exterior was an excuse, a front, a cover up for the artificial life I was playing a part in. Merely existing, not even remotely living. For a time, I too believed I had it all. But that nagging, gnawing feeling in your gut, that thing we call intuition, it knows better and it knew I needed help.

The more time we spend projecting the fictitious components of ourselves, the further we move away from remembering who we really are. I wanted so much to be happy but had no idea what made me happy. I wanted so much to be successful, but I had no idea what success meant to me. Nothing ever seemed like it was enough, but how could it when I was raised to believe that my beauty was all I had to give to this world. I had no idea what it meant to feel fulfilled because fulfillment to me was made up of what other’s thought of me. I never believed that what is meant for us, should come easy. I always thought that it had to hurt, it had to be difficult, it had to be about everyone else and never about me. Keep others happy and they will make you happy. Give others everything and you will get everything you want. So I hung onto toxic people and situations hoping that they would see something of value when all along I was the only one who should have been able to see that. Instead they saw through me. I was invisible for a really…long…time. Everything I thought I had, kept falling apart or taken away from me. I couldn’t make anything work and I couldn’t understand why.

By some means, and by I don’t know whose request, I woke up one day just knowing that the universe has a funny way of bringing to us what is best for us, and taking from us what is not meant for us. Somehow, that thought alone changed the way I looked at everything in my life. That thought alone made me see that everything I had spent a life time questioning, all of a sudden made sense. That thought alone was a message to be shared with the world because think about it, if you lose it, what ever it may be, it wasn’t written for you and if it wasn’t written, then it’s purpose was purely to realign yourself with who you legitimately are and strip away a layer of who you thought you were in order for you to become who you ultimately should be. You, as you were made, unapologetically yourself and comfortable in your perfect imperfection. You.


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