Shooting stars and being me

I'm wondering why I've tried to be small. I wonder why I've been quiet, why I've tried not to be great. I wonder why I bury so much of what I think and feel.

All my life, I've been big. Whether we're talking about my personality, my dreams, or my rear end - I am BIG. Outlining a history of life events which taught me that this was wrong is outside the scope of a blog. But I have come to realize that this is how I conduct my life: trying to remain small because I'm wrong to be big.

Don't have an opinion - you might offend someone or someone might challenge you, and that's bad. Don't release your talent - you'll make others feel less. Don't be too emotional - people will think you're a silly girl. Don't be smart or confident - men will be intimidated by you. Don't be beautiful - you'll only attract bad men.

I have never walked this world feeling confident, smart, or capable. I am constantly trying NOT to be these things. I am the kind heart. I am the supportive friend. I say the diplomatic and well-reasoned thing. Reining myself in creates so much pain in my heart. Take one for the team. Don't ask for anything for yourself.

Amanda is tired of seeing the truth but never being allowed to speak it. I am sick to death of remaining silent. The façade crumbles and once again I see that the world cannot handle me. But I won't apologize for that anymore.
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Some of you know about me and shooting stars. Sometimes I strain, looking for them, even though I know that I'll never see them when I'm looking. The sky was overcast late tonight as I drove home from work. I was thinking in depth and at length about wanting so badly to just be me and not have people run away. About how hard it is to do and say what I believe is right, how hard it is for me to think of myself instead of others. And about the strength it took for me to say in several recent situations, "You don't have the right to hurt me anymore."

And a bright, orange shooting star crossed my windshield. I thought I just might be hallucinating until I realized there were no other cars, and it streaked across the sky for a full 4 seconds (think about how fleeting these things usually are, and you will realize just how long that is).

I am hurting. But there is hope