I was raised by a tough set of parents and I was also the youngest of four children. Probably the one that had the least amount of toughness bestowed upon them. I’m not a wuss or victim or less of a person. I feel I am more of a softer sort of individual. When times are hard, I think I pull some of that inner toughness to the forefront to tackle what has been laid before me.
I prefer to be silent, somewhat introvert in a crowd of different personalities. I come from a long line of louder than life, strong, and courageous people. My ancestors didn’t have a choice, as I do. They were made to work extremely hard from a very young age and go without and have holes in their shoes as they made their way to school. I never went without, although I was not anywhere near rich in material items. Being raised in a home where loud was the norm and you were fighting for an opportunity to be heard, well I just never fought as hard as the others. I guess being the youngest although I longed to be heard, I didn’t stand a chance I felt.
Maybe that is why I am able to write, to share openly now about my feelings and experiences. To take the part of me that may have wanted to shout but couldn’t. That wouldn’t be heard and place it into the blog world for many to see if they choose. To be heard. To connect with someone, to bring light to someone who may be in the darkness, so that they won’t feel alone. To grow myself into someone somewhat less introverted, that can speak a little louder with her opinion, and to take on a presence of feeling secure.
Grace is a gift,