Creativity, Imagination, Innovation, Inspiration.
Where did it go?
When did it die down?
I can clearly recall my younger self being called to the teacher’s desk in third grade. She said the stories I had been writing in my periwinkle spiral notebook were wonderful stories. She said I possessed great skill and imagination. She said my creativity would take me places. Then she asked if I would like to have my stories published for the school library.
I was horrified! My family had just moved us to this new place with all these new people. I was eight years old. I was extremely shy. I was so nervous when she asked me that question. I froze up. It was all I could do to shake my head no. NO WAY! I could not fathom opening my little eight year old self up to such judgment, such criticism. I have no idea where that spiral notebook ended up. I don’t have it now.
I seek to get that imagination back. I seek to awaken that creativity within me once again. I seek to let my inner child out. I no longer wish to be the rock. I no longer wish to be the go-to. I no longer wish to be a dumping ground. I no longer wish to be a sponge.
I seek to heal from those crucial moments that slowly ate away at my imagination. I seek to understand why, at eight years old, did I take on the world? Why did I feel it necessary to shield my siblings by completing their chores? Why did I lie to the school when questioned about my home life? Why did I force myself to stay awake at night, listening to the negative hostility between my parents? Why did I stop being a kid? Why did I concern myself with the affairs of grown adults? Why did I feel the incessant need to protect others? Why did I enjoy being a peer mediator in elementary school, solving arguments on the playground instead of playing myself? Why did I seem to attract everyone’s secrets? What is it about me that causes others to feel so comfortable that they tell me things they should not? Why, as an adult, can I not recall moments of joy, happiness, excitement, etc. from my childhood? Where are my memories of comfort? Contentment? Peace?
I have so many questions. I realize the answers will have layers. I did not lose myself quickly. Some pieces of me were ripped away slowly. Other pieces of me were given away blindly. I seek to find those pieces and put them back together.
Photo from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5c-5rI7N44I