Breaking the mold

Just like anyone else, I had that preconceived notion of what I was supposed to be. Trying to squish myself into some predesigned mold that had been put together by a mishmash of false beliefs, people’s pressure to make me fit into their reality and the remnants of fears and untruths instilled in me in childhood. Over the years that mold acquired dents and cracks, turning into fissures, until naturally the mold broke. Finally shattering into completely irreparable pieces.

And just like anyone else I looked at the pieces and was at a complete loss as to what to do with them. And with myself.

Until the realization set in that I was finally able to be. No more pressure. No more expectations. And the understanding that I can change my mind anytime something doesn’t fit me (anymore).