Stifled

I didn't know how stifled I had been in my marriage.  I kind of did.  But, today, driving the riding lawn mower around that I had changed out the fuel line and fuel filter, jump started and got going....well, I had this vaguely familiar sensation from many years ago.  It was....freedom.  No, not because of divorce.  Deeper.  I was me.  Freely so.  I completed a hard task.  I made a mistake and had to redo something.  I didn't freak out, nor get discouraged.  I just kept at it until the mower ran.  And I remembered driving a similar lawn tractor in college at a farm called "World Hunger Relief".  I learned a lot there.  And I remembered how I wasn't afraid to be vulnerable nor to try things.  And I also....mourned.  I mourned that I allowed someone to take that sense of marvel and trying and completing and being successful away from me.  I never felt successful with my husband.  He didn't encourage who I was but picked at who I wasn't.  It's true...I'm not an awesome housekeeper.  But dammit, I can put a lawn mower back together.  I can fix a dishwasher.  I can break up concrete.  I can do stuff.  But he would never give me encouragement for the things I do well....because he wanted me to be someone else, so he would only "encourage" things that were of the type of person he wanted me to be.  You know.....psychology.
And I did it.  Though I longed to be encouraged in who I was.  For real.  Bottom line is that it meant that I couldn't be me around him and be enough.  Though, I was enough.  So it created this constant battle inside of me.  Knowing that I was enough.  But being treated as if I wasn't.  After awhile, I succumbed.  I knew...I wasn't enough.  It was evident.  No matter what I did, I wasn't enough
Turns out, I am enough.  Because the only person I am asked to be is ME.  Isn't that marvelous?
He stifled my growth.  My exploring.  My trying new things.  He had to be the center of kudos.  Of compliments.
But today, I remembered the girl that sat with her grandpa and learned stuff.  Who used a chain saw in middle school.  Who was shown how to fix things.  Who was allowed to sit on a stool in his shop while he worked and talked about what he was doing.  He never fussed if things weren't right the first time.  There was always room to fail....and try again.
And today I found that freedom again.  And I found how to be vulnerable with who I am again.  And it was exhilarating.  What a blessing.  What a beautiful and wonderful thing.....free.  Thanks God.  And...thanks grandpa for loving this girl who like fixing things and tinkering and thinking and getting a little dirty AND pretty dresses and high heels.  I am a person of opposites, I guess.  But to be happy, I need all of the pieces of me.  Someone doesn't get to come in and dictate which parts get to stay and which are less than desireable.  I am worth it.  If anyone really takes the time to find out.
blessings.