If you remember my guest post over at Get Born on New Year’s Eve, you’ll recall that there were so many things about this year that had me yearning to delve deeply into my own life to extract that which would allow me to live fully, with zest, with fervor, with whimsy. 2012 and I were going to go head to head over the best me, and I was going to win.
This from a woman who has spent most of her adult life with anxiety. Self doubt is the favorite form of self loathing. It comes in many forms over many days. I often questioned whether I was loved, cared about, valuable, important, worth it, putting on too much weight, was I forever too chatty in group gatherings or not chatty enough, I could wake up with headaches wondering if I offended anyone, I could lay down to sleep with worried mind that I didn’t get enough done in a day to make myself happy, my children happy, and my husband happy. Am I living a full, FUN life? Could I be approaching everyday with more awareness, more creativity, more engagement? THIS life is enough, but what if I could live it with with more zest, more playfulness, more joy? I eat to fill the void that every one of those questions left behind…a truth I no longer want to live with.
Where on earth was I going to begin finding this spiced up version of myself I like to hide? Oh, yes, I was going to begin finding her playing along with Tiffani over at freeplaylife. This is a gal whose adventures I have followed on Facebook for a couple of years all the while yearning to understand how I could get a little more of her spunk into my frump.
She is doing a 52 week challenge this year to create a better you, so to speak. A few weeks ago her challenge was to put a picture of ones ASS onto Facebook, instagram, or some other form of expression where you were willing to show that fantASStic, fabulASS, bombASStic, part of yourself that most of us spend our days trying desperately to hide.
What did I think when I first read her challenge? Yeah, right. There is no way on God’s green beautiful earth I was going to put a picture of my boot-ay out there for all the world to see. Except then I starting thinking that maybe I could. That maybe, it wasn’t that big of a deal. And that maybe the journey to learning to love myself would be full of discomfort, but a little bit of excitement too. And what if I could be artsy about it, and reflect a part of myself?
And then last week at my women’s circle gathering we talked about death. A lot. Near death. And the looming journey of one very brave young lady, and the possibility of many young ladies I know. There is no one here to stop time for us to finally figure out that there is nothing to be afraid of inside of our own divine selves.
So damn it, I did it.
And yesterday I posted it to Facebook. Not without any fear mind you. I actually started enjoying my homemade photo shoot, but when it was time to press the ‘share’ button I was sweating like a stuck pig on a 110 degree day in Texas. At the last minute I thought against it. And then shared my ass anyway.
Cause here is the kicker, I am tired of caring about what people think, I am tired of worrying if I said the right thing, did the right thing, am the right thing. I am tired of hiding who I want to be behind fear and the stories I tell myself of why I am not good enough. And lord knows I am tired of eating my way through all of my self depreciating bullshit lies.
I am amazing. And so is my ass. And so is yours. And so are you.
Don’t ever forget it. Or doubt it. Or let anyone else tell you otherwise.
I leave you today with one of her other assignments, to find your super hero song for the year. My year? Self love. My super hero song? Nothing but Michael, press play, and then yes, you can totally get up and shake your ass along.