From the Mind of a Foibled Mortal

I have a theory about people.
I believe that we become so caught up being someone else's something that our own personalities get lost along the way. I also think that while in that position, reality grips us so firmly that we forget what it is like to get lost in a fantasy, even for a moment.
Daydreams give way to "Honey-do lists".
Desires transform into dinner plans.
Hope and wishes become silent prayers about bills and children.
I've seen it.
I've lived it.
None of these are bad, but that are not the sum of who we are.

I've witnessed adults who want to play with the same freedom they had as children but who seem to have forgotten how. Those who seek simplicity and adventure, afar and in their own backyards, but fail to recognize it.
Abandon, joy, a sense of self, self-awareness enough to embrace who we are as individuals as well as maintain those relationships without losing ourselves to them. They are within reach, I think.

I've had it. I've since lost it in the back of a closet with my son's other wrestling shoe, the favored green shirt of my fiance and my sanity but I promise I did have it once.

And I want it again.

To recapture it I need to look at my past, for that is where it started, and where it was lost.
I need to look at where I am now, what I'm doing and how it all adds up.

These aren't excavations as much as stories. I'm not a psychologist and am incapable of going all Freud on myself without breaking into fits of giggles.
Instead I want to revisit stories, personal myths and legends, lessons that harbor seeds of wisdom and encourage me to be open to every possibility.

So here I am to share the whispers of days gone by, chronicle the now and ponder the paths I've yet to travel.
It won't be easy. I expect laughter, tears and a bucket load of "what the hells" and "reallys?" to come up along the way but that's the best part.
What's the use of a story if it doesn't tug, push. pull or effect something?

*deep breath*

Here we go.
Flaws, mortality and all.