I remember when I was younger and still attempting to be someone I was not, I would repeat again and again to myself and to others, “I love the rain. I love all colors, including yellow. I love everything and everyone in the world!” *(Cue the eye roll)*
It’s the attempt of trying to win a fight, you know you will lose. Just like so, when I kept telling myself over and over again, I don’t hate them. I don’t hate the bullies that tormented me for years. I hate their actions but not them.
Screw the rain. I never wear yellow. And yes, I also hate winter…it’s just always too cold.
It was liberating to be open about what I truly liked and disliked. Such a simple feeling of being honest felt as if I was freeing myself from a decade old jail.
It was me trying to be a saint. To let myself feel better that since I didn’t hate them, I was better than them. Because I was a good person…and they weren’t for what they did to me.
It has been so long since I have been over that wound. The wound of being bullied and ostracized. I was especially over it when I no longer cared but knew that when I did care, I hated those individuals with my guts. They were human beings with flaws. And for that, I understood them before. However, that did not mean I didn’t hate them.
I was learning that I was not an angel. And I was not a “good girl.” And I felt happier after finally giving up such a ruse three years ago. I was unrestrained.
I was finally letting go.