Home > Uncategorized > Pick a heart. Do a thing.

Pick a heart. Do a thing.

Are we always going to be like this? Do we ever really change?

That’s what I was thinking yesterday, as I was driving home. I passed a school bus, and I remembered being small, greeting my bus driver with a hug each morning. I was five, so I don’t remember her name. I want to say it was Josephine, but I’m not sure. She was the first person I ever knew who had more than one earring. She was always awesome. And she always looked out for me. If I was late coming out, she’d beep the horn. On the days where I was sick and couldn’t make it, I’d go out and tell her – and she’d tell me to feel better soon.

But I always hugged her good morning. To me, as a kid, hugging was as essential to breathing. To this day, I am an affectionate person. If you hold still long enough around me, and I care about you, I will hug you. It’s inevitable. That’s who I am.

I show I care. I’m not just words. I’m actions. I’m still that little girl who hugged her bus driver every morning, whose hair was sometimes unruly, and who would rather give then get. I never outgrew her, and I’m grateful for that. Because some people lose that sliver of themselves that allows them to show reckless abandon/reckless affection.

But it got me thinking about certain things, and then I was wondering if we ever really change. Is the core of who we are immutable? Perhaps one has to have a strong personality to hold onto the essentials of our being. Perhaps it’s weaker personalities that shift with time and circumstance. I don’t really know.

I think, honestly, that it takes courage to be true to yourself. That’s not always something easy to come by, that courage. I’m not made of Teflon. I’m scared a lot of the time. But I know what makes me me, and how to stand up when it matters. Honestly, I hate fighting. It terrifies me, and I’ll avoid it whenever something isn’t essential. Picking my battles, as it were. As much as I’m a CareBear, as much as I would much rather go with the flow, there are times where that’s destructive rather than constructive. And although I never do something without examining the possible consequences, I know how to take a (figurative) punch. I don’t always do that without flinching, but I do it without running away.

But back to the question: do we ever really change?

I don’t think so, not entirely. But I do think that we sometimes mistakes losing ourselves for change. Losing touch, as it were, with the center of who we are. To me, there’s nothing sadder than someone who not only has forgotten how to fight for himself/herself, but who even stops blocking the blows.

It’s too easy to forget that we’re worth more than surviving. That we’re worth more than just getting by. We mistake existing for living. And it’s just not. I’m not saying that everyone has to be the person who hugs his/her bus driver. But I think we should allow ourselves to be who we are. Without that, what do we really have?

Life is more than punching a clock. It’s more than just paying the bills. It’s laughing until you can’t breathe, drinking wine at 2 a.m., and loving thoroughly. I’ve never been a person who does, or feels, anything by half. (Shoutout to Jane Austen!) And while that can be somewhat inconvenient at times, it’s one of my best assets. When I’m all in, I’m in. When I do something, I do it. There’s no need for middle ground, because middle ground is too often a fence. Pick a side. Pick a heart. Do a thing.

Are we always going to be like this? Maybe. But maybe we are more than what we’ve allowed ourselves to see.

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