I believe so many things about myself that just aren’t true. Not even a little bit true.
You’re a failure.
You’ll never be enough.
You’re too much… too loud, too vocal, too animated, too MUCH.
Only recently did this gigantic “ah, HA” world open up to me where my character traits I believed were flaws were actually GIFTS.
I talk too much? No. I don’t. I just really, really don’t.
Try: I talk openly and freely. I’m expressive and talkative and colorful. It’s the way I was made and created, and for over 20 years, I’ve been solidly SQUASHING it because it seemed so demmed unattractive.
I’m playing a new game now -new field, new realm, new ball game.
As I’m cleansing my my life of my false beliefs, I’m finding I have to avoid certain places and situations that trigger them. Of course, I learned this by finding myself plopped IN those situations and thoroughly hating every fiber of my being.
I’m a very hands on learner.
Just ask my battle-worn sewing machine.
So here’s the deal: I can’t do cardio workouts right now. Every time Jillian Michaels pops up on my screen, I’m suddenly unattractive and riddled with shame.
I used to RUN toward that, thinking I needed to rid myself of my unattractive-ness!
When really? REALLY. I just needed to rid myself of Jillian Michaels for right now -until I’ve accepted myself fully as I am, until I’ve learned that I AM attractive and can embrace what I see in the mirror at any given time of day: first thing in the morning, freshly out of the shower, and right before bed when the day’s cookie count has accumulated in my bloated abdomen.
Shame for me is found in so many places.
I see Jillian Michaels… the trigger is pulled, and BAM: a false belief runs the gamut of my mind.
You’re too soft.
You don’t have it together.
I see a clean house run by someone who cleans their house religiously.
You’re not enough.
I see someone going through hard things who is all steel and granite.
You’re weak, you’re so SO weak.
You’re less than.
The blank unholy truth of it all is that I have this crazy belief that the way other people live somehow has something to do with ME.
And it doesn’t. It doesn’t AT ALL.
They can clean their house, and I can NOT and we can live and love each other without me believing that I am somehow the world’s worst and fullest failure of a creation that ever poisoned the carpet she dared to rent.
(PS: most of that is the kids’ fault… okay?)
I can own my beautiful MUCHNESS: my loudness, my animation, my crazy love for anything free and wild… this weird existence between country western and liberal gypsy (go ahead, ask me how long it’s been since I shaved my legs).
And I will say this: I do stuff really well. For everything I DON’T do well, I DO DO other stuff well (like make 11 year old boys laugh by saying “DO DO”).
There are wonderful people who have taken this journey before, who will read my words and think, ‘duh, Alicia.’ and that’s okay. Right now I’m in a cleansing place of learning to accept myself in spite of how others live, in spite of the mountain of “shoulds” I’ve built in my 28 years, in spite of my default setting that tells me life is somehow all about me.
In truth, life is a gigantic, majestic, embracing work of art full of variation and life and color. And I am a piece.
A good piece.
A MUCH piece.
A necessary piece.
And for that, I will stop apologizing for who I inherently am. I will apologize for things I do that are offensive and awful, but
“sorry I talk too much” is no longer on the menu, along with “sorry my house is a mess.”
Cleaning. It’s just not something I GET. I have to work REALLY hard at understanding the mechanics of organization and cleaning. Right now, during my cleanse, I just can’t do that.
Yesterday, I asked my kids to run and clean their room while I picked up the living room. Minutes later, my daughter came out of her room… where she had been CLEANING, remember … with THIS
My daughters have inherited my MUCHness, and now is the time to start loving that part of me so I can fully love and instill self-love and full self-acceptance in them.
Because the scene of my two favorite females emerging from a work environment wearing hard evidence that they’d actually been PLAYING was awesome and hilarious and (let’s face it) admirable.
I found this image through Glennon… Momastery Glennon… and it fits today.
About it, she says:
I’m often asked about my parenting “strategies” and I usually just say -“forgive yourself for being yourself.” But I saw this picture today and it reminded me that another parenting strategy of mine is to gently swerve out of the way sometimes so beautiful things can grow.
And I issue that same invitation to myself… to get out of my own way and let myself swerve out of the white lines I’ve painted in my restricted and colorless Mountain of Shoulds.