My Paint Brush

Paintbrush

I keep my paintbrush with me,
Wherever I may go,
In case I need to cover up,
So the real me doesn't show.
I'm so afraid to show me to you,
Afraid of what you'll do,
That you might laugh or say mean things,
I'm afraid I might lose you.
I'd like to remove all of my paint coats,
To show you the real, true me,
But I want you to try and understand,
I need you to accept what you see.
Now my coats are all stripped off,
I feel naked, bare and cold,
And if you still love me with all that you see,
You're my friend pure as gold.
I need to keep my paintbrush with me,
And hold it in my hand.
I want to keep it handy,
In case somebody doesn't understand.
So please protect me, my dear friend
And thanks for loving me true.
But I need to keep my paintbrush with me,
Until I love me too.
~Anonymous

I was 16 when I first read this poem and it literally brought me to tears. I felt exactly that same way. It was as if someone had come into my soul and wrote down how I felt. Something I kept in for so many years now out in the open. Except I was only exposing it to myself. No one was around. Maybe I was in denial and reading it made me realize I was that person.

This impending move has made me want to pick that brush back up again. A brush I put down a long time ago.
Then I started asking myself why?
It took years for me to strip myself down. Learning who I really was along the way. Learning to speak up for myself. Learning to say no when I wanted to say no and stop trying to please people. Even though I sometimes fall back into trying to do that.

I started doubting if I really loved myself. Started feeling insecure again. I guess it's a part of life. The unknown is scary. I almost started disguising my fear. I picked the brush up and looked at myself, then I put it back down. Facing my fears without my brush.