I am noticing a pattern. People of my age are all starting to realize that they have lost their sense of self. We all are looking at our lives and saying, “yeah, but where the hell am I in all of this?”


At this age, some are parents, spouses, professionals, but when did we stop being who we were? We tend to let our lives dictate what we have become.


I know that for myself, I have put someone else’s hopes and ideals before my own. I let someone else dictact my life to me. I lost my sense of self.


But my personality is the one where I will take things only for so long until I break and then, hell be damned.


I am getting to that point in which hell needs to be warned.


Ask anyone from my high school, I should be a writer by now. I should have a decent body of work attached to my name. But I don’t because I let other people tell me that I wasn’t good enough and that wasn’t the right job for me. I could only be a teacher. Nothing more then that and certainly nothing else on the side. I was supposed to just teach my classes, come home, make dinner, and on the weekends host little parties with friends that aren’t mine. 


This theory doesn’t just come from one source. All the basic people in my life said the same thing. My little pamphlet of a magazine and all my little stories are just a cute little distraction. It’s all just a wonderful hobby. You already know that writing is not a hobby for me and it never could be just a hobby


For so long I was told that I had to do this one thing.


Then one day, I saw that I didn’t have to listen anymore.


I am climbing out of a huge hole. I have little support and tons of negative comments ready to toss me back in. Yet, I am still climbing on. I know that things right now are hard for me and I am so afraid to just “cut the cord” (it’s a case of the devil you know). But reason and sense tell me that this just isn’t working.


I am not that person who can just give up myself. I need someone who will look at me and love me for all that I am and not what they can mold me into. I am not clay. I am a human being with thoughts, ideas, and motivation.


I often wondered if what I was going through was normal. Was this just a rite of passage? Is this what all people of a certain age go through?


On some level it is because we all tend to let our lives run our selves. But I think the difference for me is I don’t have someone who will accept me as I am, they only want what they want me to be.