I had just gotten done working on a part of my research when I got on the elevator heading down to the car. Feeling the box adjust just slightly as I stepped in my heart sank ever so softly into my chest and I asked, “how long have you been telling yourself that something is wrong with your body?”
I didn’t bother to answer. A few weeks ago I decided I was going to start adding physical aspects to my morning gratitude practice. Thanking God for my body in various ways. I thought, more than anything, right now, I am so very grateful for being my mothers daughter.” And what does that mean? It means never being satisfied with the superficial, it means being caring and candid, it means appreciating laughter, and it means being charismatic. Neither of my parents are shy “keep to yourself” types, and so I guess its only natural I have this strong pull to connect with others.
I saw a classmate of mine who told me he reads my facebook posts, and my blog when I post links to it. “You haven’t posted in a while,” he said. I forget. Not to post, but that even this place is a testament to connection.
No one has ever been as hard on me as I have been on myself. I have held myself to ridiculous standards and held dreams just out of reach like a dangling carrot to a mare. In coming to terms with my own…well, with myself, I have grown to understand how much I’ve limited myself. And why? Because I didn’t look a certain way? Weigh a certain weight or dress a in a particular style? Its just a lie. Its an ugly lie and its so clearly not true as evidenced by my amazing life.
I have loved. I have jumped off mountains and treetops. I have drank too much. Danced for too long. Laughed too loudly. Given too much. I have lived. And not only that I have lived a damn good life. And I am so grateful for my story (so far). I am ready for whatever adventure awaits me, and I plan to greet it with grace and curiosity.
In my journal I wrote, as I listened to Joel Osteen:
And I meant those words. I am worthy of love. Of belonging. Of connecting, that is my birthright as a divine being. I feel I’ve come to the point in my life where I can recognize how many miracles I’ve been privy to experience and I realize just how great its been. I can look at the darkest corners of my being and say with love, “it happened.” I recognize my survival, my strength, my resilience. And any flaw I might have thought I had just isn’t a good enough excuse given all I’ve overcome. No. I am fearfully and wonderfully (that is, full of wonder) made. I am walking ordered steps.
It happened, yes, but God…