Stay out of that rearview mirror.

That’s something my pastor reiterates over and over. He can’t say it enough, because those as hardheaded as me need that reminder daily. Reliving the past can be downright detrimental. Still, I can’t help but reminisce about how I got here.

Here.

What can I say? I’m living the life of an average black girl. There’s no rags to riches story here or triumph over tribulation. I didn’t grow up impoverished and disadvantaged, but my upbringing didn’t involve “dollar dollar” signs either. But does that mean my story isn’t important? Does that make me irrelevant, uninteresting? This I ponder as I stare at my computer screen, the word processing document taunting me to write something different, something unique and capturing.

But I can’t.

I can only write my truth. Which, as I approach year 30, seems as confusing as ever. Looking back, I was always confident in who I was, even if that meant discarding people and relationships like trash. Even if that meant putting “me” first before others. Even if that meant I might be alone, confidence and pride my only company. I felt comfort in knowing that about myself. No insecurities tugged at my heart. No self-deprecating thoughts forced me into abusive relationships. Instead, I stood proud on my pedestal, pitying those whose self-doubt I could sniff out in seconds. This is who I was.

Before.

Before I developed a closer relationship with my maker. I’d always had faith in a higher power, having grown up in Catholic school. But life has a way of hurting you, breaking you down and disappointing you until you relinquish those steadfast beliefs you grew up with. It’s not until you’re brought to your knees with a broken heart and weary soul that you finally call out for help.

Now, I’m full of faith and happiness, more focused on my goals than ever. But there’s remnants of me that are hard to part with. First things first, my pride had to go. Pride caused me to hurt, ridicule and dismiss people who once meant something to me. Next, was my selfishness. I’ll be honest, I’m still working on this one. It’s difficult, but I feel like I’m getting the best of it. Selfishness prevented me from reaching out to others, helping those who really needed it. Letting this go is a process, but giving truly does feel better than getting. Then, there was self-indulgence. Some would say I’m a frugal person, which I definitely am (I buy EVERYTHING on sale). But I chose to indulge in certain things that weren’t necessarily good for me. Moderation is key at this point. I’m working on all this in an attempt to be a better person. I’ve heard people say that, but living it is a challenge to say the least.

These qualities, characteristics I’m letting go, they were an integral part of my personality. My pride carried me through my first heartbreak, a hurtful situation that threatened to consume me, but didn’t. Selfishness propelled me towards success; I accomplished my goals in a timely manner, although I lost a few things along the way. My self-indulgence provided fun and excitement. I traveled to new places, met new people, and lived it up. I’m not going to lie, I had a GREAT time. I took some chances, but I’m still here.

Here.

Now that these things are no longer a part of the future me, what is? What will fill that empty space? If pride doesn’t take the lead, what does? If selfishness won’t be my motivation, what will? If I don’t indulge, how will I seize the moment? What is the answer? I wondered aloud, not so long ago.

Someone said, what about love? Love. Patience. Obedience. Strength.

That doesn’t sound bad at all. Truth be told, this isn’t a new me, it’s the REAL me. The me that was always there, under the hurt and regret and vanity.

THIS is me.

Erinn

Image Credit: Squiz Hamilton