I see you there, and before you start criticizing the extra weight on your thighs, and the frown lines on your forehead, I’m going to stop you. I’m going to stop you before this garbage even begins to tumble into your mind. I’m going to remind you of all of the things you’ve done, and every single obstacle you have overcome to become the woman standing there. I’m going to remind you of every single thing that God used to grow you, and affirm your beautiful presence. I’m going to remind you of why you love yourself, and why that’s ok, and why it’s ok to be you. Because, I see you standing there, and I want you to remember so much of what made me.
I survived a tumultuous childhood. I laugh and say I was basically raised by wolves, but for the most part, I raised myself. I grew myself wild, and with little boundaries. I worked hard, and in spite of the fact that it was always around me... I stayed out of trouble for the most part. I stayed many weekends in reading. I smiled, even though waters were troubled all around me, I somehow managed to find higher ground, and even though I was drowning, you would have never known it. I never let it let me sink. I never sunk. 31 years later, and I still refuse to sink.
In spite of the fact that I lacked in the parental guidance department, when Kyrie was born... I swore I’d be the best damn mother I could. I didn’t know how, or if I was even capable of keeping a child alive, but I swore, I’d be the kind of woman for her.... that I needed when I was a little girl. I am not the perfect mother, but God, I love my children fiercely. They are my heart, and I’ve never let more than a few minutes pass by before I remind them of how much I love them. I promised I’d always be present l, and I’d always be open and be as kind and as patient as I could. I swore , I’d raise good people. Who are helpful, thoughtful, and kind, and I would do this in spite of all of my short comings. I’d be an example of His hands and feet, and I would do my best to always choose the higher road, and to let them see me help when it is needed. I promised to get my hands dirty and make loud memories for them to hold on their hearts. I promised to be better than what I was shown... and I’m raising 4 of the kindest, most generous, thoughtful, and loving people I’ve ever known. They’re selfless, and wonderful, and so damn smart. I did that.
I hold on to people, no matter what happened, or how long it’s been, if you reach out and you need me, I will be there. I have had the same phone number for years now, because I’m afraid to change it because there may be someone who will only be able to remember it when they need a friend. I am not an overly affectionate person, but I have dropped everything, drove 7 hours after working a night shift, and sat up with someone all night, and held their hand as they put the pieces of their world back together. I did stay up with someone all night, because I DO know how to save a life.
I fought for my Husband. I am not the best woman or the easiest woman to love. I am so stubborn, and I hate to admit when I am wrong. I tackle conflict head-on, I am loud, opinionated, and strong willed. But I woke up one day and realized that the man sitting across the room from me was my best friend. I told him my every fear, and secret, and I cried on his shoulders more times than I could count. I shared laughs and heart breaks, and he is in nearly every single good memory I’ve ever had. I remember how heartbreaking it felt to think about not ever making memories with this man again. How sad it was to not hear our laughter or share our stories. I promised that even though I had no earthly idea how to be a, “good wife”, I’d be better. I promised that he would always be first. I’d be his best friend again, and I’d be the one that made the light twinkle in his brilliant blue eyes. He is the first person I call, he’s the first person I text, and he’s always the first person I want to talk to about everything, because he is everything. I have everything.
I have scars, marks, and bumps everywhere. My journey is mapped on my soul, and it’s been a crazy one, and it’s not always been easy. It has however, been damn beautiful. It’s a mess of tragic chaos, comedy, romance, a little sadness, a lot of adventure, and it has a damn amazing heroine. It’s my journey. It is uniquely and wonderfully mine. I was equipped with a perfect cause. Some day, at the end of my life, and watch the sun set on this beautiful life I’ve lived. Some day, my children will think back on the memory of me fondly and they’ll miss me. It’s all a person could ever ask for, a beautiful story. You’re writing a beautiful story. A freaking. beautiful. story.
So, while you’re standing there in the mirror looking, be kind to me. Remember all of the reasons that I love her, that I love me, and I love my journey. Be kind.
To all the beautiful souls standing there scrutinizing themselves in the mirror. Find time to tell the woman or man in you all the reasons you love yourself. Be kind to yourself, and remember the freaking queen/king you are. And for God’s sake, please pick up your damn chin
The crown slips when your chin is pointed down.
❤️
-A
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