"owning up and being yourself"- a drabble by avsongbird- includes vlog of reading from my youtube channel

               It’s so easy to say that the circumstances that are your life were NOT your fault—that where you are and what you are, are simply the product of others. It’s hard to stand up straight and strong, steeling your spine against those who would judge you, and to say “Yes, I made those decisions, and I made those mistakes, and I am the reason that I screwed up.”

               Hard, yes, but necessary in the path to growing up.

               I know that for a long time I was guilty of passing the buck to others. I kept telling myself that it wasn’t my fault—that I was as I was because of genetics, because of my sheltered upbringing, or because I wasn’t allowed to do otherwise.

               The truth was—I liked where I was. I was loved, I was sheltered, I was safe, and that sanctuary was always a strongpoint for me. It is all at once my springboard and my safe-haven—the place I always start from and come back to, my alpha and omega.

               Genetics? My line is a line of strong men and women, all of which I am proud to call my ancestry, and of which I am proud to be a descendent. Whatever problems I ever claimed to have with my genetics was simply a cop-out—a scape-goat- a way for me to explain away those times when I raged, when I felt weak.

               The weakness was never in them—in the ones who came before-- it was in me that it resided, and always has been.

               Do you want to know the truth? The honest, complete, black-and-white truth?

               I was afraid, though I would never admit it.

               I was always afraid that I would not be accepted for who I was, loved for who I was. I spent most of my life working as hard as I could to please people, to bend and twist myself into what I believed they wanted me to be. And I was losing myself continuously in the process.

               How can you ever hope to find who you truly are if you do that? The simple fact is, I couldn’t. The fact is—you have to free yourself to be who you ARE, and be true to your nature, in order to find real happiness in this world. Otherwise, no one can ever really know you, or touch you, or hope to really connect with you any deeper than your inner walls allow.

               That can lead to a solitary life. Believe me—I know. I kept myself isolated for a long time—a prisoner in my own mind, and I do not recommend it to anyone.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TwBTgf3cjV4

I got into a lengthy discussion with one of my readers today- free write read audiobook style by avsongbird

I got into a lengthy discussion with one of my readers today.

               I got into a lengthy discussion with one of my readers today.

               He asked me how it felt to document my life's details, to share not just my work, but details of my life and of my past with people I've never even met. He said that some of the finer details of my life made him feel uncomfortable, and I get that. Some of the things that happened in my past are touchy topics with some people.

               Living through them gave me a better understanding of others who've gone through the same thing.

               I gave it a fair amount of thought before I answered him, wanting to be as honest as I could be, and I told him it's hard, sharing yourself with others like that, opening yourself to others like that.

               But at the same time, it's therapeutic, sort of getting everything out there in the open like that, it's healthy. Certainly healthier than burying it all deep inside and letting it fester, letting it make you angry and bitter and making you feel guilty.

               Doing things like that allows things like that to own you-- and that path is certainly not a healthy one to travel down. It will leave you angry, bitter, self-destructive (and possibly even destructive), and it will isolate you.

               And it's a far better frame of mind to be in when you own your past, than when you allow your past to own you.

               At the end of the day, it's important to remember that everything that happened to you, everything you've been through, made you who you are now. That you wouldn't be who you are without every decision-- good and bad.

               Without every memory-- good and bad.

               Without every regret that haunts you.

               If you went back in time and changed any of it-- any decision you made, any action you took, any regret that you had-- then came back to the present, you wouldn't be you anymore. So everything I've been through, everything that's happened to me, everything I've ever done in my life-- I am who I am because of it-- all of it.

              It's a comforting thought, to see how far you've come in your life, and to recognize that fact.

               My blog is where I post my thoughts, my poetry, my stories. It is an extension of who I am. And I know not everyone blogs the way I do. How boring would it be if everyone blogged the same? There's no wrong way to blog. Blog what you want-- write to inspire, to get opinions, to begin discussions.

               If it's judgment you're worried about-- mockery, ridicule-- and what people think, don't. You can't let that thought stop you from doing what you want to do with your life.

               People will always judge you-- by who you are, by what you do, by what you look like and how much money you do or don't have.

               People are going to judge you. And some of them will be assholes. That's just something you're going to have to face. Because not everyone you meet will be an asshole. And if you don't risk the assholes, at the end of the day you'll be left wondering if you didn't just miss out on the chance of crossing paths with someone who could just change your life-- someone who would invigorate you, change your mind, make you see the world in a way you hadn't before.

               I've always been a firm believer in the life-changers-- the walking muses. I've met more than a few people in my lifetime who've inspired different works in me for various reasons. And they shall remain nameless, with my gratitude towards them just for existing-- for being who they are, and for inspiring such thoughts in me-- for sparking my creativity, and my imagination. I love them for opening my eyes, for changing my mind.

               I've met some interesting people since I started my blog-- writers, readers, people from all over the world. I've taken criticisms and compliments, been told how they loved or hated my work. I've read the work of others who'd read mine and chose to share theirs with me. And I was flattered at the thought that they wanted to know what I thought. I've had people asking me about what side projects I've got going, stories I've already posted, and what I plan to post down the line.  

               Do I regret sharing so much of myself? So many details, even the ugly ones? No. Because I'm just starting to branch out and to have people reach out to me, to contact me, and I'm coming across incredible people I might never have met if I hadn't taken the leap into online sharing. People who've told me "Oh my God that's how I feel" or "I went through the same thing". I couldn't have had that if I hadn't been so open about my past, and my experiences.

               Do I regret it? Not even close. If it makes you uncomfortable, if it bothers you that I write the way I do, that I talk about the things I talk about, then I'm sorry, and I hope you don't let your experience here make you shy away from reading the other works of the other writers on this site or others. Some of the best writing I've read over the course of the last few years has been by people who've been bloggers-- some of them fanfiction writers (before you judge, seriously, check them out). Some of them are incredible writers, people who fall in love with stories and shows and characters the way I fall in love with stories and characters. People who want to share their love of the stories and characters with others in turn.

               I get that. As a writer, as a reader, as a lover of books and comics and movies and all things creative and imaginative, I get it. After all, what good is fantasy, imagination, movies, books, stories, if you're not emotionally invested on some level? How boring to sit back and read something or watch something and afterwards "Yup that was something" and just go about your life completely unchanged by it?

               Do I regret? No, not even for a second.