Loving Yourself Enough

I had a very big lesson this week and I thought I'd share it with all of you.

 

Not everyone in my life wants me to succeed. As long as I am available to help build their dreams and to help them succeed, I am needed. The minute I start to spread my wings and find my own way, I become disposable. 

The person who taught me this very difficult lesson once told me, "Money makes people do really bad things," and they weren't wrong. Because when it came down to my survival or their checkbook, my survival became trivial.

It was at this point that I realized something that my heart has been telling me for a while. Everyone wants a piece of me, but there are people who get upset if I try to keep a piece of myself...for myself.

You see, I dared to start to dream again. I dared to restart things that would help me succeed. I dared to begin the process that was needed to move forward from this phase...this phase where I was helping someone else create their dream. 

I'm not sure how it all began to be honest, except I began to do an bit of inquiry into what was necessary for me to work on my passion. And it began to spiral into possibilities. And those possibilities became attainable.

Then, I made the mistake of discussing this with a person who I thought wished for me to succeed. When my need to survive and my desire to succeed outweighed my desire to build this person's dreams, bitterness and hatred spewed forth. And I got a very deep look into exactly how this person saw me. It hurt. It hurt badly. But I got the lesson and the push needed to pursue MY dream harder and with everything I have.

So, you see I learned a lesson about self-care. It isn't always about facials, mani/pedis, or meditation. Self-care is about nursing your dreams, following your passion, and creating your own happiness. After all, not everyone in your life wants you to succeed for yourself. If you're not helping further their success or building their dreams, you become useless.

Don't let someone ever take away your desire, your passion, or your dreams! Practice self-care and cut these people from your life! That's what I'm doing.

 

The Moth

I am so blessed to be part of a community of women who lift each other up, empower each other, and just enjoy one another's company. Sure, we get a little rowdy and exchange more than a couple of slightly naughty things, but damn, do they know how to make a woman feel proud to be a woman.

The other day, a member of the group shared this meme: 

I had to roll this over in my mind for a bit before I commented. After all, moths are usually considered nuisances who cling to your screen door in the summer. We seldom discuss moths. When we think of moths, the dullness of colors comes to mind. And, well, let's be honest...they're not as beautiful as butterflies, right?

Then, a friend (not a part of this group) posted a picture of a moth she had found. It was gorgeous! I couldn't believe how stunning this moth was. 

That was when it hit me...HARD. Moths are just as beautiful as butterflies, but they serve many of the same purposes (pollination being a huge one). Moth bodies are a bit fuzzier, fuller, heavier. Moths aren't as flashy in their colors, but they are still beautiful. Instead of needing the sunshine to bounce of their wings to flash their colors, moths have the moonlight. You may have to look a little harder to find the beauty, but it is most certainly there. 

That's when I realized that I am more moth than butterfly. My body isn't slender by ANY definition. My colors are a little more vibrant than some, but the darkness? Oh, the darkness will allow you to see me in my full glory. 

I have spent the last too many decades of my life trying to fit a square peg in a round  hole. For so long, I've tried to be what society deems as beautiful and if I'm not, then I must be horrifically ugly, right? Wrong! (And I seldom will admit this to anyone.) I was so incredibly wrong. 

This is one of the favorite things I've read in a long time:

So, I am on a mission in this my 48th year of life. I am going to stop comparing myself to other women. Because while I may not be their kind of beautiful, I am my own kind of beautiful and that matters, too. And I don't want to be the kind of beautiful that just shows on the outside. I want my beauty to radiate from the inside out and shine brightly in the darkness. After all, moths are attracted to light, right? Maybe this means I'll find even more of my tribe.

When Did You Stop Dancing?

The dreaded birthday has came and went. Lots of sadness and wistfulness have flooded my soul. I have cried until I can cry no more. I have my up days and my down days, but I made it through.

I've been sitting in the moment and letting my days wash over me. I'm finally coming out of the fog and moving forward with life.

The above quote has been weighing on my mind a lot lately. As someone who has Native blood coursing through her veins and feels more in touch with herself when she's near water, I've pondered the questions.

When did I stop dancing? Goodness. It's been a long time. I seldom turn on the music and just cut loose these days. I'm not quite sure why, but I just don't. I used to dance all the time. Badly, mind you, but I still danced.

When did I stop singing? It's been a while for that, too. I am someone who loves music. It is a very HUGE part of my life. The only time I even listen to music these days is on my  way to and from work.  And I love to sing. I've been singing most of my life. For some reason, I've just stopped.

When did I stop being enchanted by stories? I'm not really sure anymore. I am a reader. Once upon a time, I would devour stories at the rate of a book or more a day. These days, I can't remember the last book I read. I pre-ordered a book for myself as soon as I could. It sits on my nightstand with an uncracked cover. By the same token, I've also quit writing my own stories. I just have no desire to write these days and I don't know why.

I can't remember the last time I walked barefoot in the grass or just sat in the sunshine. I'm so ungrounded and off-kilter these days. I haven't spent a lot of time staring up at the stars in infinite wonder and spoke to the moon of wishes and dreams. 

Instead, I've simply held onto the hurt, depression, and anxiety, allowing the darkness to wrap around me like a blanket.

So, today, I have opened up all the curtains and let the sun flood my world. I turned the music on. I still haven't sang, but I'll get there. Dancing? Well, that may have to wait for another day. (I have a dog who gets WAY too excited. LOL)

So, if you're feeling down, let me ask you, "When did you stop dancing? When did you quit singing? When were you last enchanted by stories?"

And for today, turn on your music and dance! Who cares how silly you look? Laugh. Be young again. And dance like no one is watching!

Let's Talk about Being Enough

Webster's Dictionary defines "enough" as: "occurring in such quantity, quality or scope as to fully meet demands, needs, or expectations."

So, riddle me this: Why does a woman have a demand, need, or expectation placed on her to satisfy society? I cannot for the life of me figure this out!

For many years (and I do mean many), I wasn't enough. I wasn't skinny enough, pretty enough, smart enough, ambitious enough, demure enough...you name it and I wasn't enough. I tried. I really did, but nothing I did could meet the expectations of friends, family, or society. Because of that, I have walked through my life, bearing the cross that I'll never be enough.

I wore glasses when other girls didn't. I bit my nails. I dressed like a tomboy. I played dumb so boys would like me. I couldn't decide what I wanted to be when I grew up. I preferred getting lost in a book to being outside. I didn't mind being alone. I didn't date much. I like eating a lot more than I like exercising.

A few years ago, I met a man who promised me that I was enough. He walked with me on this journey and helped me smash the records in my head that spewed the vile things I'd been telling myself my entire life. He declared me "perfect"...until my anxiety and depression got the better of me. Then, I became "too much" and "not worth the effort." He stepped back and walked out of my life without looking back. In the blink of an eye, I went from being "not enough" to "too much."

Where is the line? Do you know?

It has taken a lot of time to heal myself (and it is still a work in progress) from my past. One thing that I've discovered over the years is this: I will always be "not enough" for some people, too much for others, but for the people who love me...I will always be enough.

I owe nothing to anyone. If you don't find me beautiful, I'm good with that. You don't think I'm thin enough, fine. You think I'm high maintenance, good thing you don't foot the bill to maintain me. I'm too vocal/blunt/over the top/emotional when it comes to my feelings and opinions? Then, don't listen to me. I will not force anyone to be my friend. You haven't walked my journey, just as I haven't walked yours. I will sit with you and not judge you, but I expect the same courtesy.

Do not force yourself into a box to satisfy societal needs. Do not shrink yourself down or hide your true self away because people can't handle you. Be you! That is the advice I wish I would have gotten years ago. The world needs YOU! It's YOU that makes this world such a unique and wonderful place!

I will tell you this: You ARE enough! You ARE beautiful enough! You ARE smart enough! You ARE  special enough! You ARE enough! And you ARE loved!!

Stumbling Through the Years

A subject that is very close to my heart these days is aging or to put it bluntly, getting old. The phrase "growing old gracefully" would never be used to define my process. I am finding myself stumbling through the years.

For so long, I've dreaded growing older. It didn't matter that it was going to happen unless my ashes had been scattered to the winds. It mattered that I didn't want to ever be old. So, I have fought it all the way. I color my hair to hide the grays. I take vitamins and supplements to help hide the sagging skin and aching bones. I don't dress my age (though I'm not exactly sure how a woman my age dresses). On a good day, I can pass for less than 40 and that makes me happy.

However, something I have discovered is that while I care how I look, being a woman of a certain age affords me things that I haven't considered. I am more willing to let go of certain inhibitions. I don't care if people stare if I am on the arm of a man considerably younger than myself. I dress how I feel comfortable and if someone is uncomfortable with that, then that someone can bite me. I tend to speak my mind a bit more. I'm not afraid to flex my brain and show my intelligence. I'm also a bit more willing to admit that I'm wrong. Aging has afforded me all of this. 

When I speak, I speak from experience and mistakes . When I give advice, I don't sugarcoat the words. I'm blunt and to the point. I don't promise that my advice is the best, but I do guarantee that whatever it is, you'll get through it. 

I've learned to take care of me, for me. It may mean a day of grocery shopping, cooking, and doing my hair. It may also mean lying in bed, watching shows to soothe my soul, and letting go of whatever is on my mind. I'm not afraid to take some time for me. Some days, I still want to build a blanket fort, crawl inside with some chocolate milk, Cheetos, and a good book, and kill a day, but I keep struggling through the pain.

I have also learned to not be so restrictive on myself. I don't deny myself the things that make me happy. People, especially women, used to approach me and make rude comments about my clothing choices. Women, I didn't know, thought their opinion needed to be heard. Quite frankly, I don't let them get to me anymore. It still happens, but I don't let it bother me. If you feel the need to comment on my weight, my hair color, my marital status, or my clothing, trust me, it says more about you than it does about me.

And I'm learning to like myself. There are still days when I look in the mirror to get ready for work and groan. But there are more days when I can look at my reflection and like what I see. I know the woman in the mirror is trying her best. I know her heart and her soul are good. I know that the twinkle in her eye shows her mischievous side. I know that underneath the plethora of colors on her head lies a brain filled with knowledge and aching to know more. I know the hands applying the make-up have worked hard and played just as hard. I also know the body may be soft and squishy, but it has been held by the very best this world can offer.

I will never be one who ages with grace. I will continue to stumble through the years, but I will do it with style and confidence. And if I'm lucky, maybe most people will mistake the stumble for a dance.

God Bless Women

Mother's Day is quickly approaching and I want to take a moment to honor all women. 

Women who are mothers and women who are childless (or childfree), whether by choice or not.

Women who have lost children and women who have theirs in their lives.

Women who work outside the home and women who stay home.

Women who have human children and women who have furred/finned/feathered/children.

Women are such amazing beings. 

While I understand not every woman enjoys being a woman, I am not one of those. Even with periods and all that shit, I wouldn't trade it for the world. To me, there is just something very special about being a woman.

I spent too long with someone who would say, "You're not my mother," when it came to Mother's Day and celebrating me. I will NOT allow that to ever happen again. Women, mothers or not, should be celebrated. 

So, I will celebrate the beauty that is you as we enter the weekend! You are special. You matter. You are loved!

Many, Many Moons Ago...

The other day, one of my Facebook groups asked us to post our senior picture along with a current one. And I love participating in weird things, so I began the hunt for my senior photos. It took me into a tote that has been sitting in isolation since I moved here almost 6 years ago. I don't have much need to walk down memory lane, so I let it sit and gather dust.

I didn't have to dig too hard to find the portfolio of photos from my senior year. I opened them up and laughed to myself. That girl is those photos isn't me. That girl had blondish hair and no life experience. She wasn't dressed in any way I'd consider dressing these days. The funniest thing of all? I remember my mother reminding me to "not wear so much make-up" that day. The girl in those photos wasn't wearing as much as I do now. 

Was she beautiful? I think so. She had a cocky confidence that comes with youth. She was sure she was going to take the world by storm. She had plans and dreams. Not big ones, but ones that she vowed would take her out of the "one horse town" she grew up in. 

However, as I looked at my current picture, I saw something I've been missing. Just as that 18 year old was beautiful in her naivete, I'm just as beautiful now with some trials and tribulations under my belt. I've made a few dreams come true and up until the other day, I'd basically given up on dreaming any more. After all, at my age, what can I actually accomplish? Then, it hit me. I'm allowed to dream just as big and loud as that 18 year old did. I'm allowed to set goals and make things happen. I still want to change the world. Maybe not in such a major way as the 18 year old thought she'd do, but change it in smaller ways. 

I found my strength and power somewhere along the way. I've left the one horse town I grew up in and been a lot further from that spot than the 18 year old could have imagined. I've lived in places that I would never go back to and I found my heart in the one place I vowed I'd never go. (My dad promised me I would live in the place I'm at now (though I said, "You're crazy, old man!"). I just wish he'd have known that I'd find the reason my heart beats here.) Home isn't the place I came from so long ago, but a place that is about 2 hours north of where I am now.  I've got a lot more confidence than that 18 year old had. And a helluva lot more determination. 

Beauty doesn't come from the outside like that 18 year old believed. Beauty comes from growth, strength, and confidence of living your life on YOUR terms. Beauty lives inside of you until you crack and break under the stress of life. Then, beauty oozes out through those cracks and shows the world just what true beauty is.

So, how did you find your beauty? (Don't be shy! I know it's there, whether you see it or not.) Talk to me! Tell me your story!