At the Post Office

Dear Misunderstood,

I don’t have to agree with you, your ideas nor your ways. That doesn’t make me any less stronger or wiser than you. It just means that I have a different way of viewing things. I embrace that; I won’t change that. I won’t bend over backwards to walk a path that only fits into your narrow vision. Your spotlight is an instrument that is way too dim to truly see me. I won’t apologize for what I consider to be my strenths as I won’t accuse you for what I consider to be your weaknesses. I release this burden because it is not my burden to carry. It is not my purpose nor is it my mission to seek to please everyone all the time and according to their standards.

I have the right to cry when I want. I have the right to enjoy what I want. I have the right to love what I want. I have the right to hate what I want.

I will not cling to your judgement of me. Your words do not define me nor do they appraise my worth. Only I can define those things with what I say, what I do and how I do it.

You don’t own me. I am not someone or something that has been placed on personal reserve for you or your agenda. I release myself from you and walk freely without fear of failure by your definition. In life and love I renew my license to feel.

Regards,

Finally Free

At the Post Office

Dear Viewers,

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and saw the complete opposite of how you've been living? It's weird, because when I look in the mirror, I see who I want to be. I see a woman of strength, compassion, love, charity, wisdom, grace and beauty. Yet the life I live does not seem to reflect the same things that my reflection projects. I see women of all types, shapes and sizes walking around and looking as though they have it all together. And I have to wonder, "Is it just me?". Am I the only one (or at least in a minority of women) unable to tap into and dwell within her majestic greatness? Then it dawned on me. I can't grasp what I want while using both hands to cling to what I think I need. I need to take a long deep look at what is standing between myself and my crown, remove them and (re)claim what is meant to be mine.

Regards,

Woman in the Mirror

At the Post Office

Dear Anonymously Yours,

I can feel you flapping your wings; wanting to be free - you want to fly. Don't worry, you will be free soon

I can feel your tears as they flow over the edges of my heart - Don't worry, you will be free soon…

I can feel the echos of your anger as you shout - enraged by my cowardly decisions. Don't worry, you will be free soon.

I can feel your hunger pains. You hunger for life. I see you dancing, running, helping. I see you. Don't worry, you will be free soon.

I am growing tired. Releasing you scares me; but keeping you restrained weakens me…

Don't worry, you will be free soon.

Regards,

Your Keeper

At the Post Office

Dear People of Judgement:

Through rose-colored glasses, I view the world and realize that pain is the same color without them. I see that cause and effect still exist and that life is a collection of choices. I wear my glasses in search of a different perspective. It doesn't mean that I am naive to the real colors around me. It doesn't mean that I'm trying to escape them. I, like many, am looking for the alternative. In doing so, I may stumble upon truths that the harsh digestion of reality would keep me from. In other instances, the bright red warning signs may appear softer and less threatening - thus impacting my judgement. Either way, I move forward - observing, listening and learning. Sometimes, I feel I understand more than I should. Yet, I walk the fields of battle with my heart completely exposed. Could it be the glasses that make me so careless? Why would anyone subject themselves to so much that is potentially harmful with every vital part left unguarded. Is it a subconscious attempt to self-destruct? Misplaced trust that someone will run up, protect and guide them safely from the battleground? Or are they trying to protect themselves from becoming numb to it all. When you are numb, you can't feel. Is it safer that way? My experience shows that pain or love somehow always manages to seep through. It doesn't matter how strong the wall is.

Sincerely,

A Single Tear