continued

I have this strange habit of having therapy sessions with myself.  What I've discovered is that I have felt inadequate for a long time.  I'm not sure if this stems from being the really youngest child, but it doesn't help because I don't feel like people take me seriously.  More often than not, my complaint to my mom is that I just want to be taken seriously.

I think my issues with choosing a school, and a major, and a career and all the little decisions in between are that I'm confronted by those who think I'm not capable to do so.  That definitely weakens my self esteem, and it shows.  

I wanted to go to Berkeley.  I was going to study Environmental Design and live close to my sister.  I was going to walk around the most beautiful campus in the world, and I was going to change the world. At least the world I live in.  

Then a comment from a well-meaning, but not too helpful guidance counselor changed my mind.  It made me think that it wasn't worth it to try, that people would look down on me if I didn't get in, and that Berkeley and I would never be a good match.  That was that.

At a BYU orientation, a smart, but not well-meaning, not too helpful head of a college lady told me my dream major/minor combo didn't make sense.  That because she had been in this field a long time (read: long) it wasn't going to work.  I dreamed of helping the earth while helping the earth's people and she told me it wasn't plausible.  So, I stopped asking questions, I stopped searching for ways to make my dream work.

I've wanted to be a dancer and a singer and a writer, and while I still participate in and love those things, there's a part of me that will never appreciate those things the way I did because of the way people treated me.

I have a nasty habit of saying "one day."  One day I'll do this because someone will be there to appreciate it.  One day I'll be who I want to be.  Another nasty habit is that I feel like I have to accomplish something grand, something just for me before I can earn respect.

This is my second epiphany: I know who I am and, for the most part, I love the parts of me that I see, but others don't.  I appreciate the good things that others see, but I never want their sympathy or pity when I say what's on my mind.

So here I am.  I'm feeling raw and exposed, but happy.
I may not always believe that I deserve what I do.
I may not always be sane.
Just give me my time and in the end,
I'll know what I always knew I knew.