Wife. Mother. Sister. Executive. Blogger. Evangelist. Yogi. Cancer survivor. Artist. Musician.
There is a never-ending list of names and identities we give ourselves in our lifetimes. Some we give to ourselves, some are given to us, some we fall into unintentionally, some we believe are true, but are merely a version of ourselves that we hold in our minds that perhaps are not an accurate account of reality. Regardless of the way it came to be that we received that name/label/persona, I believe in the end, we all seek the same thing: purpose. We as a human species, seek to understand the question millions have asked; the question perhaps you, yourself, have asked even recently: Why am I here? What is my purpose? What's the point of all of this?
I don't have an answer for you, my friends. I apologize.
But what I can tell you is that if you find yourself struggling to understand why you are here on this Earth, in your family, in your city, in that stressful job, feeling alone and lost-- you are not alone.
As a person who grew up in the late 80's/early 90's, I would say that mine was the last generation were a kid really got to be a kid. We didn't have iPads, we had coloring books and Etch-A-Sketch. We didn't have YouTube, we had Nintendo and Bit Paint. As I look at these funny "Kids of the 80's/90's" things on Facebook and I can't help but laugh and the simplicity of the toys and computer programs they show, and I am immediately thankful. I feel such gratitude that in a world of Kardashians and teenagers who look like they're in their 30's with perfect fashion and sculpted bodies, I am thankful that I was blissfully shielded from what I can only imagine is an unimaginable mountain for kids today.
As an adult, I will be the first to say that when it comes to connection to the visual sense, I am far more (in my opinion) like a man than like a woman. Men are very visual creatures... as am I.
Couple that with being a person who has had an estimate of about 10 surgeries throughout my life and some not so small marks to show for them, and it makes for one heck of an insecurity.
Growing up, I would often look at myself in the mirror and just cry. I would ask my mom "Why can't I just be normal??" By the infinite wisdom and true grace and kindness of God, I was granted Mary Poppins for a mother. She spent my entire life building myself and my sister up and telling us how beautiful and strong and capable we were. My father did the same and continues to be my biggest cheerleader even today... I cannot ever thank them for being such amazingly supportive pillars in my life, as it truly shaped the woman I am today.
Yes. I am very different. One in a million, to be exact. No, I don't think I'm just that fancy-- this is going on a scientific level. But honestly, at 34, I truly do believe I am one in a million. Granted, my dating life doesn't quite reflect that status, but that's another story for another day.
As an adult, I started to learn that I will never-- COULD NEVER look "normal." So, I re-calibrated my bar. I stepped back and asked myself... When do I feel most beautiful? My answer-- When my hair is long, maybe a bit of makeup on, I'm in decent shape, and my nails are done. So that's what I do. I keep my hair long and I get my nails and toes done on a regular basis, and I do my best to stay in reasonably decent shape... for a workaholic. :)
I went on a very interesting date last night with someone whom I would say is just about as far to the opposite side of the "PC" spectrum from me as one could be, but when he sat there and asked me (as many have before him) why it is that I'm single... I merely told him-- When I was a younger, I judged EVERYTHING about myself so harshly, it was almost debilitating. I would never be like the other girls. I thought it was isolating and alienating; and to be fair, there is still a piece of that which stays with me, as I do love my hermit ways and often feel that I don't truly fit with most others... but these days, I'm very okay with it. But as I got older, I finally realized that I can have the most perfect nails and the best hair and years of reconstructive surgery and be fit and have a great career and all of these things that I think make me "enough," yet when I think about the last few guys that I REALLY liked... for whatever reason, I simply was not what they wanted. It's out of my control. Period. And if I go back to them and try to track them down and analyze WHY I'm not enough... I'm pretty sure they will take whatever list they add and tack on "and also, she's crazy" to the end of that... So basically, I have to just realize that they weren't the ones for me and move on.
What I realized when I first began to find this strength within myself, to be a person who cares SOOO MUCH what other people (even people I don't know and shouldn't really have a care about what they think of me-- probably because they most likely DON'T think of me,) but I choose to try to be who I am regardless and be unapologetically me, I developed my super power.
When I think about my 12 year old self-- completely insecure and painfully self-aware of how NOT normal I was, and I think about the woman I have grown into, I can't help but smile. I wish so much that that young girl could take a glimpse into the me that I am today walking into my office, being the successful professional that I am, wearing my scars with pride and strutting around like a peacock at a pool party full of people... I am quite certain it would've made me cry.
Don't get me wrong... I'm no Adriana Lima, nor do I think I am... but I AM unapologetic about who I am today. Scars, fears, tattoos and all. And I wouldn't want to be anybody else. And I am so thankful.
There is a never-ending list of names and identities we give ourselves in our lifetimes. Some we give to ourselves, some are given to us, some we fall into unintentionally, some we believe are true, but are merely a version of ourselves that we hold in our minds that perhaps are not an accurate account of reality. Regardless of the way it came to be that we received that name/label/persona, I believe in the end, we all seek the same thing: purpose. We as a human species, seek to understand the question millions have asked; the question perhaps you, yourself, have asked even recently: Why am I here? What is my purpose? What's the point of all of this?
I don't have an answer for you, my friends. I apologize.
But what I can tell you is that if you find yourself struggling to understand why you are here on this Earth, in your family, in your city, in that stressful job, feeling alone and lost-- you are not alone.
As a person who grew up in the late 80's/early 90's, I would say that mine was the last generation were a kid really got to be a kid. We didn't have iPads, we had coloring books and Etch-A-Sketch. We didn't have YouTube, we had Nintendo and Bit Paint. As I look at these funny "Kids of the 80's/90's" things on Facebook and I can't help but laugh and the simplicity of the toys and computer programs they show, and I am immediately thankful. I feel such gratitude that in a world of Kardashians and teenagers who look like they're in their 30's with perfect fashion and sculpted bodies, I am thankful that I was blissfully shielded from what I can only imagine is an unimaginable mountain for kids today.
As an adult, I will be the first to say that when it comes to connection to the visual sense, I am far more (in my opinion) like a man than like a woman. Men are very visual creatures... as am I.
Couple that with being a person who has had an estimate of about 10 surgeries throughout my life and some not so small marks to show for them, and it makes for one heck of an insecurity.
Growing up, I would often look at myself in the mirror and just cry. I would ask my mom "Why can't I just be normal??" By the infinite wisdom and true grace and kindness of God, I was granted Mary Poppins for a mother. She spent my entire life building myself and my sister up and telling us how beautiful and strong and capable we were. My father did the same and continues to be my biggest cheerleader even today... I cannot ever thank them for being such amazingly supportive pillars in my life, as it truly shaped the woman I am today.
Yes. I am very different. One in a million, to be exact. No, I don't think I'm just that fancy-- this is going on a scientific level. But honestly, at 34, I truly do believe I am one in a million. Granted, my dating life doesn't quite reflect that status, but that's another story for another day.
As an adult, I started to learn that I will never-- COULD NEVER look "normal." So, I re-calibrated my bar. I stepped back and asked myself... When do I feel most beautiful? My answer-- When my hair is long, maybe a bit of makeup on, I'm in decent shape, and my nails are done. So that's what I do. I keep my hair long and I get my nails and toes done on a regular basis, and I do my best to stay in reasonably decent shape... for a workaholic. :)
I went on a very interesting date last night with someone whom I would say is just about as far to the opposite side of the "PC" spectrum from me as one could be, but when he sat there and asked me (as many have before him) why it is that I'm single... I merely told him-- When I was a younger, I judged EVERYTHING about myself so harshly, it was almost debilitating. I would never be like the other girls. I thought it was isolating and alienating; and to be fair, there is still a piece of that which stays with me, as I do love my hermit ways and often feel that I don't truly fit with most others... but these days, I'm very okay with it. But as I got older, I finally realized that I can have the most perfect nails and the best hair and years of reconstructive surgery and be fit and have a great career and all of these things that I think make me "enough," yet when I think about the last few guys that I REALLY liked... for whatever reason, I simply was not what they wanted. It's out of my control. Period. And if I go back to them and try to track them down and analyze WHY I'm not enough... I'm pretty sure they will take whatever list they add and tack on "and also, she's crazy" to the end of that... So basically, I have to just realize that they weren't the ones for me and move on.
What I realized when I first began to find this strength within myself, to be a person who cares SOOO MUCH what other people (even people I don't know and shouldn't really have a care about what they think of me-- probably because they most likely DON'T think of me,) but I choose to try to be who I am regardless and be unapologetically me, I developed my super power.
When I think about my 12 year old self-- completely insecure and painfully self-aware of how NOT normal I was, and I think about the woman I have grown into, I can't help but smile. I wish so much that that young girl could take a glimpse into the me that I am today walking into my office, being the successful professional that I am, wearing my scars with pride and strutting around like a peacock at a pool party full of people... I am quite certain it would've made me cry.
Don't get me wrong... I'm no Adriana Lima, nor do I think I am... but I AM unapologetic about who I am today. Scars, fears, tattoos and all. And I wouldn't want to be anybody else. And I am so thankful.
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