7 Things I've Promised Myself (and Sometimes Forget)

I'm realizing that I’ve made a lot of silent promises to myself over the years. Some were whispered in moments of grief, others after quiet triumphs I didn’t care to tell anyone about at the time. They weren't anything serious or formal, but they still mattered. 

They were the small, private agreements I made with myself to survive, stay true to what I believe in, and to become someone I can be proud to be in the future. Some of these I kept without even realizing it. Others I forgot completely until life reminded me, sometimes with a little more force than I'd have liked. 

But lately I’ve been feeling the pull to remember these promises. To sit with them, to look at the shape of the life they’ve helped to build over the years, and maybe recommit to a few that have fallen by the wayside.

1. I promised myself I'd always write, even if no one was reading

Over the years, writing has been so much more than just a hobby or even a profession to me. It's also how I survive, process things, and connect with parts of myself that don’t respond the same way to anything else. 

That's what writing was about for me when I was still just a kid. And although it's not always easy to balance that with client deadlines, it's important to me to stay in touch with why I originally wanted to be a writer in the first place.

2. I promised I wouldn't shrink to make other people more comfortable

Because I’ve done it before. We all have. And it never leads anywhere good. I don't owe other people anything, certainly not the exact type of relationship they'd like to have with me. But I owe myself a few things, especially wholeness. That means making space for the less palatable parts of myself, along with everything else.

3. I promised to be kind to my body, even when it's hard

As someone on the autism spectrum, I sometimes feel a disconnect with my body. There are days it feels more like something foreign I'm steering around than an actual part of me. And then there are the days when I'm just frustrated with something about it, especially as I get older. The bad hips. The extra fluff it's been hanging onto over the years. 

My body deserves kindness, compassion, and patience anyway. It's gotten me through a lot and will likely to continue to, so it's earned it.

4. I promised I'd hold onto my sense of wonder

The childlike sense of wonder I've somehow managed to hold onto through everything is my favorite thing about myself. But it's not always easy to remember that. It flickers sometimes. But I still chase it. I guard it. It’s one of the few things that has always felt pure and like it actually comes from me.

5. I promised myself healthy love or no love at all

If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that not all love is the same. Also, some kinds aren't even worth having. Being chosen doesn't mean being safe, and being wanted is far from the same thing as being truly loved. 

I have a lot of experience with toxic, draining, unhealthy love. It's what I grew up with, and it's been at the center of a lot of my early adult relationships. Once I learned the difference between that and whole, healthy love that actually makes your life better, I promised myself I'd never settle for anything less again. Not from other people, and not from myself.

6. I promised to hold onto my softness, even when it's hard

Because I'll be honest. It is hard, quite a lot of the time. But I've also learned that there’s real strength in tenderness. I'll probably always be someone with a shadow side who doesn't really like people and complains a little more often than I should. But I refuse to become cruel just because cruelty is common (and apparently now socially acceptable).

7. I promised to keep dreaming

My dreams have changed shape many times over the years. I’ve outgrown some goals. Others never quite fit or felt like they belonged to me in the first place. But I still believe in reaching for things. They're just different things now. Softer ones. Stranger ones.

........

I’m still learning how to keep my promises, because I'm not always that good at it. But I can appreciate the way the ones that matter seem to keep me, too. They tether me to the version of myself I’m still working on becoming, even at this age. And on the days I feel furthest from her, these promises help me find my way back.

* This reflection is part of the Feast of the Wandering Pen, a month-long exercise that's all about following the thread and seeing where the words want to go.