Proud To Be a Blue Sheep

I was raised on sarcasm, and criticizing ways I picked myself apart, and threw myself to the crows daily It was what we did; it was our norm, and I had to fit in. No one liked me at my house, I was the odd one. The blue sheep, not even good enough to be black. I knew it, felt it, but was not wise enough yet to understand It was not me, it was them….. When I fell in love, I formed my own family. I said “I love you” and hugged, and did things I had wanted done. To me. Things that had not happened. When I grew up I noticed things had changed. My mother could hug my daughters and say “I love you” to them. She could even say it to my husband and mean it. I was the last one she could hug. It was a stilted hug, but it was enough. I recognized now it was her, not me. I am still a blue sheep, but glad to be one now. Proud of being me. My creativity keeps me different, I am grateful and happy, and have thrown sarcasm into the trash. I finally figured out how to never pick myself apart again. The crows are not happy, but I am.