Truth

Posted by meli on Tuesday, August 07, 2012 in inspired, marriage, mental heath | 4 comments

continuing to stake claim of my face and dotting it's way down my neck ...
this is my truth. 

I haven't cried too much throughout this separation/divorce transition.
Some, but really not too much.
Highly unusual for this emotional girl.
Kinda weird, actually.

I cried two weeks ago. Driving home from our first CSA pickup. All three kids passed out. I cried. The entire hour and a half drive home; I cried. Not a hard cry. Just tears. Continuous tears falling down my cheeks as I quietly sang along with the radio. And I didn't feel better afterwards. I walked through the remainder of that week, and into the next with a sinking feeling washing over and through me. Feeling a chill run through my spine; stopping me in my tracks multiple times a day. Taking time to embrace myself, literally, to regain some sense of comfort.

I cried last week. In the early morning hours. Kids still asleep. Birds chirping their morning song. I sat in my bed and cried. A really hard, gut wrenching, gasping for breath, dizzying kind of cry. And I felt so much better afterward. I have grown and stretched in so many ways these past 2 months. I've learned things about myself that have long been standing in the way of my ability to let other people into my life in a truly vulnerable sense. I've gained a kind of clarity that I didn't know existed. But not until I was in the aftermath of that self purging cry did I truly feel my heart opening to my own being. A level of self love washed over me so fiercely. Looking me straight in the eye, and refusing to be ignored this time. Refusing to be pushed aside. Refusing to be tamed. I stood in front of myself and looked at all of the imperfections that used to tie me down ... and I watched them break away from me one by one. My chest inflating, my shoulders opening, my step feeling lighter.

I look into a mirror now and have such a deep appreciation for the body and spirit I see reflected there.
My heart, hurt and torn, but so very open and forgiving.
My mind, filled with so much fear and resistance, but ready to take leaps and embrace risks.
My body, not tight and svelte, but perfectly, beautifully, uniquely mine.

My experiences in this life are mapped out very clearly in this body of mine, and I'm finding a great deal of love and beauty in every curve, every wiggle, every mark I see. A reflection of my life; my story. I am me, and I love me. In this space. In this moment. I love me. All of me.

And then I see my face, and it's so hard to hold onto the feelings of self love. Hard. Really, really hard. I'm trying desperately to hold on, but it's hard! Maybe that's the problem. Trying too hard; too much pressure. It's too forced and causing resistance. This facial skin condition/rash is not getting any better; it just continues to get worse. Just when I feel as though I'm making progress on loving and accepting that this is a part of my life; that this is me; that this is my story; my beautiful story ... new splotches show up to test me. And I fail. I fail miserably. I don't know how to love this piece of me. I don't know how to be ok with this aspect of my being. I don't know how...

But I'm not going to quit working to figure it out.
And the more I talk about it; the more I unapologetically show photos of it; the more I face it and don't run from it ... the easier and easier it is to connect with it. It is me. And I love me.