The window of my soul is mine to build.

It’s been a few; I’ve not been writing as much. Being an adult who has to work and make life happen, I have been busy and distracted. Or, at the very least, attempt to show up as life happens to me.
Much of my previous writing acknowledged my demons, pain, hurt and fear, mods, emotions, and depression. Gaslighting is a fun buzzword. We gaslight ourselves as much as others do to us. So I walked into all hurt.

What a fun process.
Then things changed,

Slowly my demons became my strengths; as I accepted more of myself, I became more confident. But, at the same time, the more of Myself I accepted, the more I started to let go.

Like rummaging through an old wardrobe from the 90s, I accepted the baggy jeans and crop tops of the late 90s, remembering I was trying to fit in so badly.
I did not need to hold on to any of the emotions from that time. I let go of the identities someone gave me and the thoughts I held about myself. I did this by allowing myself to experience all the confusing emotions and rewriting the story about that time. It was a clean story, not elaborate, filled with drama and unresolved memories, like cleaning a corner of the window that was my identity. I did not need to have all that pain to look through.
I started to think of this process as “The Art of Emptying” or “Cleaning the window of my ego.”

If I did not like something about myself, a trait I picked up along the way. It was up to me to change it. So, as I focused more on who I was and being brutally honest, I was less focused on what anyone else thought.
I started to play the game, Build a Bitch.
I have some fun, not-so-lovely sides, but that’s what I want.
I’m not all sweet and sugar; I unapologetically added some lemon and spice.

When you start to own who you are, you become less threatened by others. And it’s fun to see each individual’s art, see them as such, from different backgrounds, materials, and all kinds of things. Where they are in life is no reflection of you; just owning yourself, no excuses.
I’m not perfect; I’m just playing the game of Heather, creating the art of my life to the best of my ability whit what I have