Let Go of Me

Let go.

Those two little words have been hitting me over the head, like a cartoon.  Every time I turn around its like an anvil is being dropped on to my head, splattering me into a puddle. 

photo credit: mrs pate writes

Let go.

Let go of what? What am I holding on too? Why are those two words sending me in to a tail spin. Watching a movie today with my toddler, those two words shattered me again. Sobbing, I try to reassure my baby man mommy was okay. His only reaction was "mommy sad" and stuck his tongue out, his way to pouting out his bottom lip. Isn't it funny the way little kids think they are mimicking correctly, only to realize later in life they were wrong. 

Isn't funny how we mimic? We think we are doing things right. We think we are moving in the right direction only to find that we need to let go.

Let go.

Of who we think some one else is.

Of how we think something should go.

How we need to react.

The need to people please.

There it is. My "let go" thing.

This motivating power I have to people please is almost impressive at times. I will (and have) lost sight of who am I more times than I want to admit, because of this pleaser personality that I have. I've been blonde, I've been a red head, I've had short hair, long hair, dressed to the nines, worn sweats every day, been a runner, a writer, a 50's house wife, a business women, all for what? 

Pleasing others?

Yes, sadly yes. 

What's even more sad, is most of those people (okay maybe all) never asked me to change. 

Not once.

I internalized comments, molded them into how I though they wanted me to be. 

Mention to me a blonde girl looked pretty, I'll go blonde. 

Tell me you liked the way your grandmother did something, I'll learn it that way too. 

Say I look pretty in sweats, see if I wear anything else again. 

photo credit; mrs pate writes

I have to let go.

I try so hard to know that I am loved for who I am. 

Me, with the tendency to wear candy colored nail polish, that changes her hair for fun, that loves random goodwill finds, and rocks $2 pink sunglasses.

Me that is totally bi-polar musically, Me that can rap along with Vanilla Ice, worship with Jesus Culture, and might know the Hit me baby one more time dance (but don't hold Me to it.)

I have to let go.

Let go of judging Me.

Let go of holding such a high, un-meetable standard over Me. 

Let Me, find her own way, not force her to copy the ways of others. 

Let Me, have bumps in the road, hard days, great days, crying days, lazy days, and medium days. 

I have to let Me be, well me. 

It is scary letting go.

Not tip toeing around others, wondering what Me they want. 

It's even more scary realizing I now have to go find Me, because I'm not sure where she went. But I have a feeling I'll find her some where... Maybe listening to Fall Out Boy, or Nysnc, that's the last place I remember seeing her... ;)

ever had to let go of something, how you thought something was, or something you put on yourself?