Removing the labels

We are all labelled in some way. Mother, daughter, brother, father, cousin, grandchild, smart, stupid, slut, hippie, weird....and the list goes on.

I have spent years standing there sticking the "hello my name is" stickers all over myself: smartest in Sunday School, helper (I never minded that one) good girl, bossy, knows all of the answers, Preacher's daughter. Okay so that one is the worst. Because we all know the stereotype, she's wild, slutty, and into everything. I was never like that, it just wasn't who I was. 

I have spent the last 13 years in my life still sticking some of the same damned stickers all over myself. I feel weighted down and unable to move because of these things, there are so many layers and with each new one that is stuck to me I can't seem to get them off. And I fear the pain involved in the ones at the skin, and part of me fears that by removing them all that I will be left with nothing, or that people will think that I am a horrible person because no one has labelled me as a good person. Another sticker to remove. 

The truth is, I just don't fit into pretty little stickers now, I prefer more gritty and rough things, more like an old battered suitcase covered in experiences, but not labels, because in my heart I know who I am, or on my way to becoming, and I don't need labels to define my worth or style. I am just me. 

It is a good thing that I am in the middle of a fire of change right now, because maybe I can remove the years worth of labeling and see where my new unlabeled skin begins. 

***I am taking part in The Rebel Diaries by Brandy Elora***