Sometimes she’s quiet and painfully unsure of herself. But I still feel her inside of me. She comes in waves and rumbles, this little girl standing slightly apart from the other kids, face towards the sky, embracing the wild intensity of the wind.
If I had the opportunity to hold my little self, I would tell her she was never too much. I'd tell her that her wildness was okay, that her soft heart was her strong side. To trust that her ability to tap so readily into her soul is what connects her to her life force.
I've been processing a lot of my childhood lately. I’ve come to the realization that I've blocked out so much to protect myself.
I always felt a little out of place in my family of origin; more of a daydreamer and a freethinker. More likely to engage in whimsical and imaginative pursuits, to emote and feel deeply, to question my purpose, to not want to be like everyone else.
I always got the sense that maybe this wasn't okay. That maybe I should be different. That maybe my innate free-spiritedness, outspoken nature, and emotional depth made me difficult to be around.
But now that I have kids of my own, I wonder why this threatened them so much. Why do we want to squash this in people? In our kids? In ourselves?
Why is it better to toe the line?
My son recently said to me, "you don't like things that are perfect, and you don't like things that are all the same."
He's five and he knows this about me. He uses this knowledge to tease me. He knows I don't subscribe to perfection or homogeny. That I believe our world is so much better when things are unique, unvarnished and scattered with flaws.
So I do my best to nurture that in him too. Every idiosyncrasy, every question big and small, every moment of wonder. I want to be present for it all.
I don't want to extinguish his wild. I want him to know I'm okay with however he shows up at any moment in time. That he's safe.
I do that for him, and for myself too. If I had the adult I needed when I was young, maybe I wouldn't have so many issues with perfectionism and feeling unseen.
But my baggage doesn't have to be something my kids carry around. I won't let it. I want them to feel free.
So here's to the untamed ones. May they always remain wild and tender hearted.
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