Accepting yourself is like turning on the lights, looking straight into the storage room that you have been holding for decades containing everything: The hurt, the resentment in your heart, the unsolved anger, the weak evenings but still trying to prove strong, and even the dreams and aspirations that have remained stillborn for years.
You often choose an easier way: Live in the edited version, peeled, filtered, sparkling, glossy. Accepting yourself means daring to face imperfections, something you spend your whole life covering up. You are afraid to look at your shortcomings, afraid to realize that sometimes you are narrow-minded, selfish, lazy and not as profound as others think.
Living for real is often more difficult than living well.
Admitting yourself is scary because it requires you to be tolerant of past mistakes. There are things you want to Delete from your memory, such as Deleting your browser history. But unfortunately, life does not have a "clear all" button. And the scariest thing is when you accept yourself, you have nowhere to hide. You stop blaming the situation, others, the past, but take responsibility for the next steps.
But when you accept yourself, you suddenly feel relieved, when you do not need to prove to the world that you are strong, kind, talented, or profound at what level. You just need to be someone who is trying every day, even if you are confused, tripped, have the wrong words, do wrong things, and think wrongly.
One day, when you are brave enough to look straight at yourself, both the good and the rough, ugly, you will understand that peace does not come from perfection, but from not having to run away anymore. And the scariest thing is the gift of freedom that we give ourselves.
You have a uncle and cousin, and you will always be afraid of your hometown's incorrect voice because you often smoke loudly. However, one day the extended family gathered to celebrate his grandfather's life, and he took a pick up and held a microphone to sing karaoke. The voice was showing off, there were real "favorites", but the friends applauded loudly because they saw him as happy as a child.
It turned out that the moment I dared to sing with my real voice after many years was the time I lived most comfortably. The moment he stopped to run away from the voice he had created him was also the moment he stopped to run away from himself. I no longer have to stress to prove myself. He just needs to sing. And peace.
