I’m no professional at this called, “life.” I’m a forever student learning to navigate through the ups and the downs that life throws at me. I wasn’t aware at how I was playing the game of life. I was sitting back being a bystander in my own life… pouting as to why… I wasn’t more. Not taking any responsibility for anything whenever possible. Why? Because then I wouldn’t have to own any responsibility for something that could possibly go wrong. I sat back and watched my life unfold the way “others” wanted it to unravel. I gave up my power to the world. I let my emotions be dictated by someone else’s thoughts and hungered for validation anywhere I could get it. “See me, see me… please. Hear me. I’m here.” But I come to realize … I would never be seen or heard unless I started accepting my own worth. Why would anyone see me or hear me… when I couldn’t even see myself. I gave love but I couldn’t even love myself.
Today, I am a “FEARLESS, RESPONSIBLE, WORTHY WOMAN.” Am I completely reformed because I am going through Choice Center? No, I have struggles and I lose my sh!t still, but I know how to sit with those feelings. I can decipher why I’m feeling this way… but more than any of that… I no longer play VICTIM because I will not relinquish my power over to anyone. As much as I hated it… I put on my big girl panties and am learning to take on life.
I am worthy. I am not an inconvenience. I am a nine cow princess and I will carry myself as such (if you want to know why I keep referring to myself as that… ask me!). I will not always say the right thing, I will not be accepted by everyone, but I am loved and I am love and that’s what I have to constantly remind myself every second I get, especially when old thoughts try to creep in.
Watching my husband transform makes me know, that while I am one person just as my Angel (Renee) helped transform my life, I have helped him enroll into his own vision for himself. It only takes a spark to cause a fire and I wish to be the change I want to see in this world.
I was at my OB/Gyn appointment when my quirky Dr started talking about exercising.
He asked me, “do you exercise?”
I said, “yes.”
He said, “what do you do?”
Me: “I do some cardio.”
Him: “Like what?”
Me: “Elliptical. Light running.” (Hamster (internal dialogue): why the f is he asking such details? OK OK… I don’t exercise that much… Geez).
Him: “Do you do spinning?”
Me: “No. No way. I don’t need my crotch to be on fire.”
Him: “But you are standing most of the time.”
Me: “Yes. If you do it right. Why? Did you like it?”
Him: “yeah, the after. But during, I didn’t like it because everyone else seemed better than me.”
Me: “You’re a perfectionist.”
Him: “Yeah, well duh. Aren’t you?”
Me: “No. I’m average. And I’m contented being average.”
Yep, these are the convo’s I have with my Gyno. Crazy, right? He’s young. He’s funny. I hear mommies go nuts over him. I get it. But to me, he’s just my Gyno/part time shrink.
With this convo, I realized that the pursuit of perfection is fuel for some people and disaster for others. For me, it’s not fun. It hasn’t been fun. To be honest, I don’t know what perfection is. I get glimpses of it when I stare at my daughter. When I feel her unjaded sweetness… I think that’s as close to perfection I am ever going to get. When she was an infant… she was perfection. But I missed the opportunity to thoroughly enjoy it because I was so caught up in my own distress. Now, she’s perfection in her stubborness, her humor, her naivety…and her blossoming personality. But for me personally, the pursuit of it has oftentimes left me feeling even more inadequate and lonely.
So yes, I am absolutely resolved with being mediocre. Average. Normal. The ironic thing is… I don’t even know what normal is. I let out a chuckle right now because really… what is normal? I’d like to think it could be me. That I really am and could be normal. That I could feel normal. That would feel like perfection to me.