I'm Schizo sometimes, but at least I know I'll never be lonely :-D
People searching for themselves are hardly as lost as one may perceive, and those who are lost surely are not searching for themselves. — With Love, E.
In order for you to begin a search for yourself, you must first admit to yourself that you feel disconnected or lost. See when I was “lost” or had wandered aimlessly off my path to my destiny, I never really stopped and said “Hey I think I’m lost.” I had no reason to. I was often content with where I was and wasn’t in those moments—even if neither was beneficial to my life. Nevertheless, slowly I began to mature, and a growing desire for change and progression took shape. I made the conscious decision not to suppress that desire — #opportunity.
Searching for Me:
Because of the latter, I began to stare into the mirror sideways — looking at the woman I had accepted as Me. She possessed a complex. I was a caged bird. I was a creative soul trapped in the body of a procrastinator: who, although was my own biggest fan, never gave me two cents worth of credit to explore my greatness. Subsequently, I got fed up with my lackluster day-to-day routines. Yes, I suffered from the same cliché story over half the world suffers from. I’d grown tired of the rat race. That is when ambition took over. Ambition —the official difference between building a slum and an empire. I thought about my goals, my passions, my purpose, my gifts and talents: they all became my fuel. My search took me to some happy places and down into some dark places. Upon deciding to go on a journey for self, I unknowingly took on the challenge of confronting all my insecurities head-on, questioning my own beliefs, values, morals, and learnings, and finally conquering my self-esteem.
Finally, I found Her. Neglected. She was different—peculiar as my la Madre would say. Oddly and beautifully creative. Her mind was a spill canvas. Her heart still pure, but Her flesh was heavily tainted with life’s scars. Her spirit ‘though multifaceted, over time had been plagued with many self-doubts and a plethora fleshly complacencies. What if the world does not understand her . . .
Be Who You Be:
Thus, the hardest leg of the race back to self was figuring out how to be the best Me I could be. Accepting myself meant I had to accept the aspects of me that others might not fancy. This took the courage not just to accept my spirit and its many voices, but to also listen to them attentively, be one with them, love each one and utilized each to its fullest potential.
Peace & Always Love
♥ Egypt E.