Boxes

The Supergirl loves to stuff her belongings into boxes and bags. It doesn't matter if she has to stand on it to get it to close, she is going to put her treasure-of-the-moment in that box, or bag, or kitty carrier. Every so often, she comes to me and tries to get me to close the box. My first impulse, of course it to relieve some of the pressure by taking a few things out.

"NO!" she screams. "It has to all fit in." And off she will go, toting her container of choice while teddy bear legs, ribbons, and doll heads poke out of the sides and top.

I think I understand the feeling, this impulse to contain everything in the neat little container. To not let anyone know of the broken, the messy, the chaos that goes on in the inside. I've been doing it for years.

What I am learning, is that even though I thought I was keeping it all under wraps, presenting this well contained package, my package has been largely made of glass. Maybe it was plexiglass. Something that you can see through...

Anyway.

And all of that chaos and crazy that I thought I was hiding so well? Everyone knew the whole time, they were just too polite or scared or shocked to admit to it.

It feels good to let go of that stress. The stress to keep everything contained and perfect. The stress to make it seem like there was not really a problem, the stress to pretend like I was really normal.

I live life. It's messy, it's chaotic. Sometimes, I screw it up really big. But it's who I am.

And for the first time ever - I am okay with that.

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