There are days I get so down on myself about the details in my life; the sort of thing I know isn’t important in the long run, but at the time I really get discouraged at the reality. We all have grand illusions of the adults we will will one day be, and those illusions rarely include battle scars or lessons learned. In my weakest moments, I’ve allowed myself the belief that somewhere in time, there exists a young version of myself who is saddened at the woman she will become.
However, as I’ve come to accept– and respect– the trail I’ve blazed, I have days I can feel the approving smile of my younger self. I think she was always smiling, but I wasn’t able to realize it until I, too, was happy with my whole story. I used to think that fairy tales sugar-coated reality, offering no breadth for the children growing up believing in them. Now I realize that as adults stop believing in fairy tales, life loses its natural magic; only those humble enough to believe– in spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary– get to live out the fairy tales of our childhoods.
I feel like royalty today, knowing that I am every bit as miraculous as Cinderella: for I too have endured, overcome, been blessed, and been recognized as beautiful in a time of filthy circumstances. Thank goodness I believe in fairy tales- or I may never have had my happily ever after!