Within myself is a dark closet. Inside the closet is a lost girl. For years, she's pounded on the door of my heart begging to come out. When she gets too loud, I tell her to be quiet. When she rages for my attention, I tell her to hush. Attending to her needs would force me to put myself ahead of others.
For years, I've dragged her through the mud like a rag doll hanging in the arm of a toddler. I've given little attention to her needs and wants. Occasionally, I throw her a bone and let her do something fun or creative. But, for the most part, I make her work extremely hard and I rarely give her a break. On top of that, I insist she does everything perfect.
Lately, she's had it with me. She let me know that if I continue to do what I am doing, she's going to make me suffer. Already, life has a stale feel and I attribute that staleness to her dissatisfaction. So, recently, I decided to open the door and ask her what she needs. She didn't say much, but I got the message.
"Thank you for paying attention. Thank you for letting me know I am a priority. I can't grow in this darkness. I need fresh air and sunlight. I need to play and I need to dance. If you let me out, your whole world will expand. If you let me out, your sour mood will dissolve. If you let me out, new worlds will appear. If you let me out, you will come to know happiness as you have never known it before."
All this time I thought I was angry at life when, in fact, I was angry at myself. I, not anyone around me, stood in the way of my own dreams. To be happy, I must pay attention to the lost girl in the closet. It's time for her to come out. It's time to be happy.