Real

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When Bebito was first born I wanted to gift him a special book. Something that meant something. I remember this passage above from when I was 14 from The Velveteen Rabbit so this was what we bought him. It means something. In fact, I think real means everything not just something.

It hurts to be real with ourselves and with others but it is the only thing we can do I believe. It is the only way I can sleep easily.

I find it easier to be real sometimes than others. Some of what I write here, like my last post, is raw and real and I don’t think you have to be raw to be real.

I also think my version of real may be different to yours. And that is how it should be.

I don’t think real means mean or brutally honest either though I think some people see it that way.

Sadly, I think being real opens us up to being hurt by others who don’t know how to respond to the real within us because the real within them is buried too deep.

Yesterday I was given great advice by a health professional to be pragmatic about what my life involves at the moment and to take far better care of myself or there will be consequences. Time to be real about my health. I needed to hear it. I had to hear it.

Today I received a beautiful gift and note that really touched me from Pip. It means a lot to me to know my version of Real is understood by others and I’m not completely neurotic.

“Once you are Real you can’t be ugly”.

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