Self Love. My beautiful soul of a daughter Codie Porter developed these headings for our new group facebook@smallisbig . I had struggled with self love, almost my entire life, even before the car accident that stole who I thought I was, at the age of fifteen. After the accident, my friends and confidence fell away with my tears. I sheltered within myself. I found solace in books and music. My self worth was wrapped around working hard and chasing other peoples dreams. Work, not for my own passions, was who I was since I was ten years old.
Comfort was found in the familiarity of my pursuits and surroundings, even though, at work, I was very often the target of repeated verbal and emotional abuse. Stepping off the pages of my well scripted life terrified me. Even though I was happily married, with three amazing kids, simply existing within my self very nearly broke my soul. I found myself thinking desperate thoughts, imagining the only way I could think to escape the constraints of simply existing. Thank God for my husband, my kids, a very good friend, and a couple family members, because they saved me, by allowing me the freedom to save myself.
I wanted nothing more than my children, husband and those I loved and loved me to follow their passions, whatever that meant for them. I watched and encouraged those around me to chase their dreams. And they did, through their doubts, past their fears. Even if they failed, they kept trying, I kept encouraging, sometimes to a fault. I desperately did not want them to do what I did, all the while not knowing how to do that for myself. Looking back through the years, I collected pieces, small pieces. A class here, a poem there, a story written down for a dream I could not see. One day I could either no longer deny my soul, or lose it.
Out of utter desperation I shared with those I loved my thoughts, my fears, my desperation and my dreams. I was strengthened by those I had fortified before me. They became my voice, my faith and my strength. They let me know that I deserved to love and value my self enough to dream for me. I was assured they would be okay. It has brought me here. I gathered up the pieces I had collected and learned to embrace the beautiful chaos of my life. Now here I am, at 54 years young, a published author. And now I couldn’t stop my soul if I tried. It’s never to late, the pieces are never to broken or small. I am here and so very proud to say those small pieces, given and collected over time, helped me build my BIG. What small might lead to your BIG?