Thankful for Positive.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve been thinking about resolutions, learning from my mistakes, and trying to learn to love myself.  It’s a hard thing to do; love oneself.  Most days, I’m fueled by coffee, toast, and adrenaline.  Today, is no different, but also there is a sort of acceptance of myself thrown in.  It wasn’t easy.  There are days when I still loathe myself.  Not my soul or personality, because I think I’m a pretty good person.  No, this is much worse.  This type of loathing is something I could pass onto my daughter, if I’m not careful.

This loathing I’m speaking of is how I feel about my body.  My looks, in general.  I never thought I was very pretty growing up.  I’m always shocked when someone compliments me.  When I was younger, I’d always be embarrassed if a guy looked at me for any length of time.  “Why is he looking at me?  Is there something on my face?”  It probably all stems from the fact that neither my mother or grandmother were much into their looks.  Neither one of them were what you would consider beautiful, but they were both beautiful on the inside.  Both of them were pretty, at least I think so.  My mom had the most gorgeous hazel/gray eyes I’ve ever seen (until my son was born and inherited those same gray/blue eyes).  And my grandma had the prettiest hands. They both were more about what’s on the inside of a person than on the outside.  I’m sure when they were young they were concerned with their looks, but when I was growing up it wasn’t that way.  I never learned to apply makeup the way a woman should.  No one ever taught me.  I had to read about it.  Thanks, Cosmo!  I never learned how to fix my hair; a ponytail usually does it for me.  I never learned how to dress myself just so.  I usually can be found in a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, and flip flops (depending on the weather).  Minimal makeup, and my mom uniform, and I’m out the door.  That’s just always been me: low maintenance.  I used to worry I wasn’t dressing up enough, or wearing enough makeup (some of the photos of people I know would assume that was the case), but then I think about my mom and grandma and I know that they were happy, and beautiful people without putting on airs and trying to be something they aren’t.  That’s me.  I’m just me.  And I like me.

It’s taken me a while to come to that conclusion.  I’ve never been really happy with myself, physically speaking.  I’ve always thought I was a little overweight, even when I was in high school and weighed barely 110 pounds.  Now that I’m a mother of two, and almost 37 years old, I am still not entirely happy with my weight; I know I have a lot of work to do to get to a healthier place.  I’m realizing it’s not about the scale, though.  It’s about how I FEEL about myself.  If my jeans fit and my back doesn’t hurt, I think I’m doing ok.

I want my daughter to feel good about herself, and love herself, no matter what weight she is.  Although, looking at her now, it’s hard to think she’ll ever have a weight problem.  Weight aside, I still want her to know how special she is.  How beautiful, smart, and talented she is.  I’ve been ridiculed by family members telling me that I shouldn’t fill her head with how great she is; that I’ll spoil her and she’ll be full of herself.  That’s not what this is about.  This is about empowering her so that no one can ever make her doubt herself, or make her lose herself.  I don’t want anyone ever having power over her to make her feel unloved, or unworthy.  I build her up!  I tell her how proud I am of her, how amazing she is, smart, pretty, talented at art, a great dancer, a good singer, and that she made the right choices, or did a great job on her homework.  We also talk about the things she ISN’T great at.  Whistling, writing the number 8, standing still in line anywhere.  I mean, she’s 5!  Isn’t it our job as parents to want our children to have everything we didn’t have?  Like positive self-esteem.

I’m pretty sure that when I asked my dad at 9 years old if he thought I was pretty and he said, “Pretty like my dog,” he may have been drunk. That’s a whole ‘nother story for another day.  But you can imagine that at 9 years old, that comment would’ve stung for quite a while.  And here I am at 37 years old, still thinking that way.  I have a few pounds to lose, and I have some wrinkles popping up here and there.  I’m so focused on what’s on the outside sometimes that I have a hard time believing my husband when he tells me how gorgeous I am.  I scoff at him, thinking to myself, “Is he blind?  How can he love me?!”  Does he still see me as that 116 pound girl at 21 that he fell in love with?  Or is he seeing the real me?  The grown woman, mother of two, with mousy brown hair, plain brown eyes, and lack of sleep and makeup.  I hope it’s a combination of both.  I hope he remembers what I was and realizes what I’ve become.

I am going to focus on my family, my writing, school, and making my home a happier place.  We will be going to church this year, and basking in His love, the only thing I can always depend on to make me feel so much better about myself.  I don’t have to be perfect.  HE loves me even when I’m not.

So, today, here’s to positivity.  I’m POSITIVE I am worthy of love.  I’M POSITIVE I’m going places.  I’m also POSITIVE that I’m not the only one who loathes herself some days.  But not today.  Today, it’s a new year.  I am all about being POSITIVE in 2013!  No more negativity.  No more people in my life who spew negative crap every other sentence.  Fair warning: I will be that sunshine thorn in your side!  Have a great day, and a great year, Mamas!