Loosened grip

Kris has a gift of words. I call them magic words. One minute you’re sitting on your couch and the next you’re transported into whatever world she chooses to create that day. Sometimes this means laughing until you cry. Other times it’s gut wrenching sobs. No matter what, you are guaranteed to think and feel with every post.

Dreams are some of the most precious, fragile things in life. And there is nothing like having a safe place to let them come true. I’m so glad that this blog is part of that safe place. Because here? All dreams are encouraged and can come true.

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Dreams are scary things for me.

I am not speaking of the dreams I have at night, although those are sometimes frightening.

I mean the dreams of things I hope will be.

As a child I was told how special I was, and how anything was possible. And then the lips that spoke those encouraging words would lean close in to hear my dreams. I would happily confide.

There would be a span of time then in which all seemed possible.

That span of time would end. Inevitably. In a moment of anger and rage and hatred, that encouraging other would spit my dreams back into my face. Ridicule me for having hoped for anything beyond the walls of a small cold room. Mock me for the stupidity of having spoken my dreams. Insult and berate me for having trusted anyone with my heart.

Never trust anyone with my heart.

That lesson has stayed with me.

It is difficult for me to speak of the things I want. Wanting equals weakness. Wanting equals neediness. Wanting equals vulnerability.

Wanting invites rejection and pain and humiliation.

Speaking of the things I want literally brings me to tears.

I keep my hopes and dreams and desires . . . my wants . . . deep within me.

Where they are safe.

But in that silence? In that safety?

My dreams stay dreams. Beautiful and lovely to imagine, but no closer to being held in my hand than they were that first day I imagined them. Exquisite but eternally elusive.

Sigh.

Over the last eight months of blogging? Of writing posts for Pretty All True? I have somehow found the courage to loosen my grip on a few of my dreams. I have let them fly from my body and through my fingertips and out into the world. As my fingers have typed and gathered the words my mind wants to speak, my dreams have flown out into this world.

Whispered into the ears of encouraging others.

My dream of connecting with people through my words . . .

My dream of sharing my life . . .

My dream of telling my stories . . .

My dream of revealing some of my secrets . . .

My dream of capturing the magic that is my everyday . . .

My dream of pointing out the path that has taken me from there to here . . .

My dream of making a mark, even if it is only across the hearts of some future version of my daughters . . .

My dream of making no apologies for who I am . . .

My dream of writing this shit down . . .

My dream of being more fully . . . me.

This blogging thing?

Pretty All True?

It has allowed me to give voice to my wants, my needs, my dreams.

And every day that I sit down and assemble my thoughts? Every day that I post? Every day that I connect?

Every day that I trust a piece of myself with others?

Every day that I write this shit down?

I am more fully me.

A dream come true.

Happy sighs.

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Go to her blog and join the roller coaster of words: PrettyAllTrue.com

And for certain fits of giggles follow her on twitter: @PrettyAllTrue