The One where I'm Supposed to Be.

Growing up, I was never a reader. I didn't like books. In fact, I really hated them and did everything I could to avoid them. Book reports often were results of literally scanning pages. If I could just get away with singing a song in front of the class instead of reading a book (which was really an option for my 5th grade reading class with Mrs. Simmons), I would absolutely take it. I even remember one time when I was "reading" a book for my 4th grade GATE (Gifted and Talented-Ennis) class, my mom caught me flipping past about 20 pages of "My Side of the Mountain." So embarrassing, even for a 10-year-old.

I don't remember the moment when that changed. I just know that, for years now, reading has been somewhat of an escape from the real world, the opportunity to live someone else's story for however long those pages went on. Like everything else in my life, I become completely wrapped up in a book. While I'm reading it, it goes with me everywhere and I think about it often. I remember reading "The Hunger Games" last year, seeing a blinking light in the night sky and automatically thinking it must be a parachute gift of bread from District 11 (you have to read the book to understand).

Currently, the book that I'm carrying around is the one I mentioned in my last post, "The Book of Awesome" by Neil Pasricha. I often pull it out to show and share with other people. Interestingly enough, when I carry my books around, it isn't because I have a feeling I'll be somewhere and get a chance to read it. It really is to share it... because I've had so many sweet books shared with me.

I remember one very distinctly. I read it back in 2005... twice. I was at lunch with a friend and she pulled out the small 200-page book and, with the biggest smile, said, "You have to read this." After reading the book, I even bought the movie (which was garbage; don't bother). I became immersed in the story by Mitch Albom called "The Five People You Meet in Heaven."

This morning, I packed some boxes... or started to anyway, until I came across this book again. I thumbed through the pages and remembered the time of my life when I read it and the effect it had on me. The writing wasn't particularly fabulous, but the idea was what really touched me. It offers perspective on the term "life lessons."

It follows a man named Eddie to Heaven where he meets the five people who made the biggest influence on his life. In the book, Eddie doesn't choose his five people, they just show up... some of them surprise him, because a couple aren't really the people that he would've expected, but by the end of their lessons, he understands how each person has molded his life. I won't spoil it, of course. I've started reading it again today, and I'm amazed at the things that I'm catching now that I didn't see then. I remember making a mental list back in 2005 that consisted of the five people that I thought I would meet in Heaven (granted I actually get there, of course). And then I started thinking about how much that list has changed in the last six years and how much I absolutely have changed in almost every aspect of the word.

And, like I (and most of us) do, my mind just went on a tangent. A tangent I'll share now. Via Soapbox #284.

Have you ever felt as if a comparison to who you are "supposed to be" may be holding you back?

I've touched on it before: over the past few months I have encountered alienation from those around me. I can't understand it entirely, and that is frustrating to me. Perhaps it is that these people don't like the new person that I have become. It's no secret: life experiences change people. They bring about a respect and empathy while providing the possibility that another viewpoint is, perhaps, better?

For a very, very, very long time, I chose to base every decision and action on whether I would receive approval from those around me. I became a wash of gray in the world of colorful people around me. If approval was not granted, I would mercilessly beat myself up emotionally and not take the time to heal before I let it happen again.

It was undeniably a life of 100% self-hate. A disorder, even.

I have made a choice to no longer base my life on anyone else’s standards, viewpoints, or expectations. I am proud of how far I've come. Even more proud of how far I've come is how far I get to go in becoming better. The sky really is the limit.

Does my past filled with self-hate sometimes lurk in the back of my mind? Yes. Will it always be there? Yes. Will I still have to fight it? Yes. It's easy, after so many years of that self-hate, to scold myself when a moment of my past creeps in. It would be easy to just fall into a mode of self-pity... but I'm not going to do it. I make mistakes; I do REALLY stupid things. No one is perfect, and I know I am SOOOOO far from it. That does not mean that my heart deserves the brutality it received for so long.

I have qualities about myself that I have grown to love. That being said, I also have many qualities I want to improve. Moreover and additionally, I am no longer afraid to make choices in my life that will make me happy. I want to dodge the possible flow of negativity if I don’t pursue the “rights” or the “wrongs,” according to someone or something else. When we are happy with where we are, as long as we continue moving forward, any adversity about how we are supposed to be will fall like water off a duck’s back. Again, if we choose to continually improve. An action is an action; a mistake is a mistake; a slip-up is a slip-up... and then we move on. You are you.

A copy never shines as bright as the original.