Thursday, February 16, 2012

My five year old self has come to visit

When I was five, I was obsessed with princesses, I spent nearly all my time in imaginary play and I was shy.  That me went a way, replaced with black clothing, feminist ideals, and a big mouth.  Now, I'm typically somewhere between those two: blue jeans, a world in my head and an internet platform for expressing myself.

Five year old me, though, wants to come out.  She has something to say, and I haven't been very good about listening.  I know she wants to play pretend and dress up and feel the beauty of the world.  She has ideas, but she's so shy that it's hard to express them, and she's rather tired of boring, grown-up me.

I haven't spent much time with her in the last year.  I stopped playing my dress-up games, because I didn't have time.  I don't write stories or draw as much as I used to , and I sometimes wear prickly armor to cover my instinctive shyness with a grumpy attitude.

So, to appease my inner five year old, I need to give her some attention.  It's not about giving in to whining, but it is about honoring all the parts of myself, good and bad.  I find it easier to spend time with my bitchy teenage self (as she rarely wants more than a dark book, some feminist politics, and a new hair color).  Maybe a tea party or some glitter crafts, a fairy tale or some time spent actually trying to write a story will work.

Every time I ignore this part of myself, I start to lose my sense of adventure and my appreciation for the magic of life.  I get cranky and  cynical, because hope comes from her and her ability to imagine that everything will be "happily ever after".

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