Soul Searchin'

I used to think being a good person simply meant doing good things. It meant preserving innocence long enough to withstand generational pressures and not conform to acts of social rebellion. And I held that mantra long enough to build this belief that my character forwent genuine credibility if I didn’t behave compliantly. My values were characterized by my actions and no reasonable justification would prove otherwise. I grew up learning the black and whites of right and wrongs, and any shades of gray were considered quieter tones of black, not excused hues of white. I surrounded myself with people who embraced this notion as well, which only cemented my belief into further confirmation. It was my sport of maintaining integrity to rely on external judgment as affirmation that my actions were proper. I felt disburdened knowing that I held a secure position to stand behind–a comfortable source of strength to be so ardently conclusive. Yet, I was unknowingly sheltering myself into this bubble of definitiveness because it was all I knew and all I knew how.

It wasn’t until later that I became exposed to different things, experiences, people, perspectives, knowledge. I went through experiences of my own that altered my attitude of being, and for the better, despite the emotional pain lamented. It was the repudiated truth of growth. And whether I’ve accepted change gratefully or despairingly yet, I’ve learned (still am) that change is a force of inhabitance worth acknowledging. My reflection of being “good” has broadened to wider views and opened to ambiguity. Nothing was simply this or that anymore. The once-absolute distinction between right and wrong, good and bad, has meshed together into subjectivity. I don’t need to categorize my actions into piles of juxtapositions to collect enough merit so I can prove my honest character anymore. Nor do I need reason to substantiate the meaning of these actions. I’ve learned “to be”. I’ve learned to let things take their course, stubbornly but acceptingly so. I’ve learned to dismiss the addiction for understanding every detail and trust in the beauty of perplexity. Because the permanence of unknown things is relieving and easy. It is the desperate liberation to our constitutionally rigid lives.

The epiphany of what being “good” meant only gently occurred to me, and still does in vacant episodes. Being “good” is infinitely acquiring knowledge, allowing newness, experiencing all sorts of encounters and ordeals, and vastly more. It’s being exposed to numerous affairs and actually trying something–testing the options, seeking the unfamiliar, changing perspectives continuously and habitually. It’s regretting everything in order to emotionally and invigorate for future occasions and mentally explore more. It isn’t just being “good” but being intentional. Because committing to appreciation strengthens development. And I’ve learned to find parts of my internal stability elsewhere. I no longer feel the need to rely on a rigorous belief that I adamantly upheld because it’s naive and inexperienced. And it will always be for as long as I permit change, but that’s more alleviating than the confinements of a sheltered bubble. I’ve learned that my intentions are affirmative enough to regard myself laudable. Whether they’re initially “right” or “wrong” deems irrelevant because sooner or later I’ll realize their greater purpose and ultimate fate. An effortless satisfaction with minimal burden.

I’m still learning and experiencing, as we all are. And all this may change in a week or a month, but it’s okay because at least I know now that I don’t need to be a good person to be good. I just need to be a person to be better.

IG: @littlemaisunshine 

You never had a chance to be. Just be yourself. It’s a constrained environment where you’re careful about your each and every move, because you don’t want to disappoint, you don’t want to be a disappointment.

All your life you’ve just wanted to please the people around you, to fit in, to be understood.

But you don’t know how to please yourself.

You don’t know what you honestly find joy in doing, you don’t know what you like or do not, you don’t know what kind of a person you are.

Because your entire existence has revolved around a desperate need to be ‘enough.’

And you’re never enough.

And you try harder, to be better, to be the best version of yourself.

So that you finally get the love and acceptance you crave so desperately.

But you never do.

And in trying to be that perfect person everybody would like,

You forget who you are.