Source http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/tinybuddha/~3/E7BD_vcCYeA/
“Never apologize for showing your feelings. Never regret being who you truly are.” ~Unknown
Ever felt like a square peg in a round hole? A fish out of water? A knife in a fork drawer?
That was me growing up.
On an emotional scale of one to ten (where one is cold and ten is super-sensitive), I hovered between seven and nine on any given day. The rest of my family resided around four.
As a result, I spent a large part of my youth feeling disconnected. An outsider. Alone.
As the youngest sibling, I was always the last in line, which meant getting the dregs of the pudding. The hand-me-down clothing. Cold bathwater.
But that’s how it rolls in families. Age carries authority. I accepted this as just how it was.
I grew up and started finding my voice, embracing my emotions, and having opinions.
It wasn’t really a shock when no one listened or took notice. They wrote me off as oversensitive and dramatic, which I’d come to believe was true. And that’s when I started apologizing—for my opinions, for my moods, for just being me.
After all, I was young and desperately wanted to fit in and be accepted.
I was the anomal…
Source http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/tinybuddha/~3/E7BD_vcCYeA/
“Never apologize for showing your feelings. Never regret being who you truly are.” ~Unknown
Ever felt like a square peg in a round hole? A fish out of water? A knife in a fork drawer?
That was me growing up.
On an emotional scale of one to ten (where one is cold and ten is super-sensitive), I hovered between seven and nine on any given day. The rest of my family resided around four.
As a result, I spent a large part of my youth feeling disconnected. An outsider. Alone.
As the youngest sibling, I was always the last in line, which meant getting the dregs of the pudding. The hand-me-down clothing. Cold bathwater.
But that’s how it rolls in families. Age carries authority. I accepted this as just how it was.
I grew up and started finding my voice, embracing my emotions, and having opinions.
It wasn’t really a shock when no one listened or took notice. They wrote me off as oversensitive and dramatic, which I’d come to believe was true. And that’s when I started apologizing—for my opinions, for my moods, for just being me.
After all, I was young and desperately wanted to fit in and be accepted.
I was the anomal…
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