Letting Go

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Why can letting go be so hard to do?  I know I talked a little bit in my blog in May about a bit of my past but didn’t go into detail.  I need to go into a little  more detail just this one last time and then I am letting it go and not going to let it continue to be my story of my future. To some it might not seem like a big deal, but to me there are things about it that still bother me.

I grew up in a very religious family, we didn’t have a TV, we had to wear dresses that went past our knees, not allowed to wear sleeveless shirts or any shirt to tight to show off our body, not allowed to wear makeup, weren’t allowed to go to dances,  I didn’t get my hair cut until I was 16 and I did it behind my parents back. We weren’t really suppose to associated with people outside of our religion, but we did it was hard not to.   Going to the mall with my mom and sisters we would all be in dresses and have people starring, pointing at us and  laughing at us.  This still sometimes haunts me because when I am out and about, if I  see someone whispering or talking about me I instantly become self conscious, the crazy thing is, is that it probably isn’t anything bad or I am imagining things and if it is bad oh well lol.  When I went to high school I would change in the bathrooms into jeans just so I could fit in with everyone, once again behind my parents back, my mom knew but she was ok with it and just pretended she didn’t know.  I would get bugged at school so much all I wanted to do was to fit in, I will never forget walking down the one hallway thinking why am I the one that has to dress like this and not fit in.  Why?  I went to my high school reunion a few weeks ago and I brought it up to my friends from high school.  I said ” remember when I would come to school and run to the bathrooms to change?” A few actually forgot and some remembered.  We had a good laugh about it and right then and there I thought to myself  we are sitting here laughing about it now, maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought I need to drop it and let it go. The hardest thing is going to be not letting people get to me when I think they are talking about me, its hard but I am working on it.  When I graduated from high school I moved out just so I could dress the way I wanted and fit in with everyone.  Shortly after my family all followed and we left the church we went too at the time. I still have relatives in the religion and, I am not bashing the religion or church it just wasn’t for me or my immediate family

I remember another time, an ex boyfriend and myself went to a country bar in our town.  We were dancing away having a great time I was already self conscious people were watching cause I didn’t know how to dance really good, but I wanted to learn, it looked so fun and I knew with practice I could do it.  So happens a neighbour came up to us and told us we were the worst dancers she had ever seen.  I left the dance floor, in tears, are you kidding me really? And to this day I have a hard time dancing.  My husband get so frustrated with me because he loves to dance and I want to dance so bad.  I feel like I am stuck inside wanting to break free and just start dancing up the dance floor.  This is one more thing I am letting go of and will get over.

Its funny I always tell my boys don’t worry about what people think of you, but yet sometime I still let what people think of me bother me.   I don’t want them to be like me, so self conscious and scared to do stuff  in case they get made fun of.  On the positive side it has taught me that its not ok to judge people by the way they look, yes I will admit I have judged people in the past, shame on me,  I think we all have.  I did it cause I knew how bad it hurt me and I wanted others to feel the pain if they knew I was judging them or laughing at them.  Isn’t that awful?  I am not perfect and I have learned and am teaching my boys to not judge, always look for the best in everyone and don’t put a whole in anyone’s bucket even if you don’t like them or what they are doing.  Its not up to you to decide.

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