Teachable Moments

Every so often, a hot topic in the media comes out that lights a fire within me that is so fierce, I could warm a small apartment by myself. 

If you’re suffering from cold apartment temperatures, then allow me to come over and then proceed to ask me about Ray Rice beating his fiancé in an elevator and I’ll have you warm in no time.

It’s not just Ray Rice. It’s not just the utterly embarrassing patchwork job the NFL has been doing to try to rectify their inconsistent behavior in dealing with the issue. It’s the fact that these stories even exist in the first place. 

Earlier today, I had the TV playing in the background. Half listening, I suddenly found myself tuned in when I heard the words, “Husband spanked his wife repeatedly with a wooden spoon when she refused to call him ‘sir’”.

What. The. Fuck. 

I realize we don’t live in a perfect world. I realize that people make mistakes. I realize that many people who make the choices they do to beat, verbally abuse and/or sexually mistreat others are dealing with some pretty disturbing issues themselves. I realize these people need as much help as the victims they hurt. 

I realize that in the end, forgiveness is necessary to move forward. 

But what I also realize is that these stories- these absolutely repulsively sick issues out there, are also teachable moments.

If you have a son or a daughter or a sister or a brother or a niece or a nephew or some sort of little person in your life, I hope you take it upon yourself to use stories like these as examples. 

Examples of what is ok and what is not. Of what it means to treat others with respect. Of what it means to not tolerate anyone who may be mistreating you in any way, shape or form. 

I’m tired of the stories of bullying. I’m tired of hearing about people being beat. I’m tired of hearing about kids being inappropriately touched, and women (and men) being taken advantage of. I’m tired of hearing that strong, confident people are brought down to feeling like nothing. 

I do believe, deep down, that in the end, there’s a lot of good in the world. A lot more good than we are usually exposed to in the media, and I also believe we should take it upon ourselves to find that good our daily lives. 

With that said, I also believe it’s our responsibility to teach the ones we have influence over the importance of what’s right and what’s wrong. Of how to handle feelings and emotions appropriately and of how to handle oneself when someone might be taking advantage of them. 

I am. I will. I hope you do and will, too. 

Depression Is A Lot Like Cancer: A Personal Story

When I was 18, I found a loved one who had committed suicide.

It was one of the strangest, saddest and honestly, most traumatic days of my life. To this day, that memory hardly feels real. It’s news like the death of Robin Williams that brings that memory back to the surface, in a way that I can barely explain. I guess that’s where writing comes in. I imagine, for anyone else who has experienced suicide, this news probably stirs up old emotions for you, too. 

It’s news like this that reminds me what depression is, what it does and what it can do. It also reminds me, just how quickly it can take the lives of the ones we love, when we least expect it.

Robin William’s death is sad and tragic no matter how it happened. It’s a loss for his family and his friends and it’s a loss for his fans. But, what makes this story even harder is when you realize the loss of life comes from such a deeply sad place. A place of such incomprehensible pain, and from a man who brought so much happiness and laughter to so many. THAT is hard.

The suicide of my loved one reminds me a lot of the story of Robin William’s death. The person I found, was someone I never would have suspected was dealing with such a painful place inside. She was one of those people who lit up a room when she walked in. She was loving and kind and had a smile that made everyone around her want to smile.

She was full of love and she spoke in a manner that could soothe anyone. She was the kind of person that everyone should have in their life. And then, one day, she decided she was done. 

After her death, I learned that she had battled depression and suicidal thoughts for many years. In fact, this wasn’t the first time she had considered taking her own life. But, what was clear this time, is that she was determined to do it. The way she went about it, was nearly fool proof and she made sure no one would find her until it was too late. 

Sometimes I think that the obvious determination in her action is what helps heal that pain. The fact that the place she was in was so horrendously low that she needed to be out of it, almost gives me a sense of peace in her passing. It’s not that I am condoning suicide and I certainly think that there are so many better ways to attempt to manage that pain, but sometimes, it’s the only way to truly heal from such a catastrophically traumatic loss.

Many people call suicide selfish. Selfishness, by definition is the lack of consideration for others. 

To the people who lose someone due to suicide, this seems selfish. Because, oftentimes we feel the person committing the act, isn’t considering the immense pain and sadness he/she leaves with their loved ones. The trauma that comes from this loss can last a lifetime and that doesn’t feel considerate.

But, I’ve learned that if you want to move forward from this kind of sadness, you have to do everything you can to put yourself in the shoes of the person dealing with their depression. 

Depression doesn’t always understand logic. Depression, at it’s lowest low confuses selfishness with what those of us might call consideration. People in a deep depression, often feel not only would their lives be better off, but so would the lives of those around them. Depression leaves a person feeling so helpless, that they can’t possibly imagine how they could be contributing positively to other people’s lives. 

While we, as the loved ones of those who are in a suicidal depression can and will do everything in our power to ensure them that this isn’t the case, that our lives ARE better with them in it, it can be tough to fight words with chemical imbalances. 

Think of it like cancer. Cancer is the chemical makeup of cells, replicating faster than the body can keep up with. Depression is the chemical makeup of the brain, in an imbalanced state.

Cancer and depression both come in many different forms. They both have treatments, and if treated early enough, a person can go on to live a happy, healthy life. 

Some cancers, like some depressions are more severe than others. Some people are born more prone to cancer or depression. Some people will experience it at least once in their life, some people will deal with it throughout their entire life. Some cancers are preventable and some depressions can even be preventable (in this case, I call each other these, circumstantial).

Cancer can’t just be cured by the power of positive thought, but it certainly needs a positive military around it. Cancer requires a variety of treatment. Depression is no different. 

What’s important to know about depression, is that it’s hard to break in and help those who are feeling so low. Sometimes those who are depressed are so ashamed of the way they feel that it’s hard to ask for help, or allow someone to give them help. But, it’s also important to remember that being there is only the first step.

The road to curing depression, or minimizing depression is not easy and rarely short. Similar to cancer- cancer’s road is rarely straight and usually pretty bumpy. 

As I look back on the purpose of writing this note, I can’t help but wonder if I really had one. I find myself stuck on whether I should give advice based on personal experience, or whether I should just admit that even though I’m sitting here trying to compare depression to something that most people can comprehend, it’s still kind of incomprehensible.

I guess that means I should probably end this with a little bit of both.

If you’re dealing with your own depression, go to someone you love and trust and talk to them. If you don’t have someone, call the hotline and talk to someone. The people there are there because THEY CARE. Likely because depression and suicide has touched them and they genuinely care about saving your life.

If someone you love is dealing with depression, try to remember that what they are going through, isn’t something they want to be going through. The sadness, the helplessness, the lack of interest, the negative beliefs. They don’t want it, but they don’t know how to stop that feeling. Be there. Research. Be patient. 

If you are grappling with the loss of a loved one from suicide, I hope you find peace in knowing that you are truly not alone in your experience. I also hope that you’re able to find some peace in knowing that the place this person was in was a place that, unless we are ourselves are also there, just can’t understand. And that’s ok. Wherever you may be, I hope you find the peace you need to move forward and live a happy and healthy life in their honor. 

And if, you, like me have been down this road— join me in spreading a little love and kindness today. I’m doing it for my loved one. I hope you’ll do it for yours. 

Settling

It's comfortable. It's safe.
With a sense of restlessness.
It manifests.
No.

It's familiar. It's easy.
With a sense of insouciance.
It drags.
No.

It's established. It's inflexible.
With a sense of qualm.
It irritates.
No.

It's uninspiring. It's flat.
With a sense of apathy.
It bores.
No.

It's passionless. It's dull.
With a sense of demotivation.
It drags.
No.

It's lonely. It's cold.
With a sense of fear.
It angers.
No.

It's settling. It's wrong.
With a sense of release.
It calms.
Yes.

The Difference Between a Girl and a Woman

A girl chases a man who is hard to get. A woman replaces him.

A girl blacks out.  A woman knows her limits.

A girl holds value in the superficial. A woman knows the worth of life's simple pleasures and treasures.

A girl waits to chase her dreams. A woman actively seeks them out.

A girl needs others in order to do things.  A woman is secure enough to do things alone.

A girl is too afraid to fight for what she believes in. A woman is fearless.

A girl stands with her arms crossed and her shoulders low. A woman holds her head high with confidence.

A a girl is dependent. A woman depends on herself.

A girl seeks validation from others to feel worthy. A woman knows her worth from the inside out.

A girl talks about others. A woman talks about ideas and loves others.

A girl is unsettled by the future. A woman embraces the unknown.

A girl settles. A woman settles for nothing less than what she deserves.

A girl feels lost. A woman knows her path.

A girl is afraid to become a woman. A woman is grateful for the process that lead her there.

Be the woman.

Vulnerability- A Pillar of Happiness

“Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable. Be honest and transparent anyway.”

Mother Teresa said that. And there’s something I’m learning- she’s right.

There’s an entire TED Talk about the power of vulnerabilityby Brene Brown. It’s great and if you haven’t watched it, you should. Much of what I have to say here isn’t really anything profound or ground breaking. It’s all been said before, in one way or another on some other platform or talk or blog, I am quite sure. But, it’s my experience and interpretation that I want to share, and perhaps, it might strike a chord with you, too.

Vulnerability is an interesting thing. According to Brown, it centers around the need for connection and the worthiness we feel in ourselves. She says, “In order for there to be connection, we have to allow ourselves to be seen.” But, in order to be seen, we have to feel we are worthy, because without worthiness, we have fear. Fear of rejection, fear of what others will think. Fear of disconnection.

There was a period of my life in my early 20’s in which vulnerability terrified me, especially romantically. I don’t think that makes me all that different from a lot of people, but one thing I discovered was that vulnerability sometimes felt safe, but more than anything, it was limiting.

I knew I wanted certain things in my life, but I learned the hard way that without the ability to be vulnerable, it wasn’t going to come easy.

Over time, I began to learn how to release the need to play it safe and embrace vulnerability. It took a lot of courage and a lot of self-talk and a lot of belief in myself, but I found it. Once I put myself out there and allowed myself to be vulnerable, especially in relationships, I found myself surrounded by the kind of experiences I was looking and longing for.

However, with vulnerability can sometimes come exactly the things we are most afraid of, and that can the hardest part of all.

The thing about vulnerability is that it’s a choice you make. You’re choosing to put yourself out there and in almost all cases, it usually ties back to another person. You have the control over whether or not you choose to be vulnerable, but you have no control over how the other person or persons on the receiving end will treat that.

Vulnerability and boundaries are an interesting little duo. Sometimes, too many boundaries make it hard for us to allow vulnerability in, but without some boundaries, we set ourselves up for being taken advantage of. I believe this is where instinct and emotional intelligence are important, but that’s another topic for another time, although quite relevant to this topic.

Once we have determined that a boundary is healthy enough, we then have to decide if we are willing to let go of the bow lines we oftentimes tie ourselves to and release ourselves into that vulnerable situation- whatever that may be.

The interesting thing is that some of my best examples of vulnerability have actually turned out to bring about the things I was most afraid of.

In a recent friendship with a good girlfriend of mine, I had shared a lot of things with with her opened myself up and let her into some very personal parts of my life, as she did for me. Unfortunately, we had a temporary falling out and it left me wondering if I made a mistake in letting this friend get so close.

Anytime we allow friends into a personal and private place, we are making ourselves vulnerable. Trusting that they will hold onto that with care and treat us with the same love and respect we feel for them. Despite our short hiccup, we managed to work things out and I learned that being vulnerable and going through that experience only made us closer.

In another friendship, in which the lines between friendship and intimacy blurred, I made the choice to remain vulnerable; to share my feelings that were developing and to put myself out there. I wasn’t so much afraid that the feelings weren’t mutual as much as I was afraid that I wouldn’t get a clear understanding as to how he felt- one way or the other. The very thing I was afraid of, is exactly what happened. I was more afraid of there being a lack of concern for addressing my feelings than I was even about there being mutual feelings! While it certainly didn’t feel good to not have those feelings addressed, it did teach me a lot about what you learn about people in the process and how we are all different in the way we handle things.

In my most recent relationship, my biggest fear in being as fully vulnerable as you could possibly be in a relationship, was that emotionally, that person would or could hurt me and sure enough, that’s exactly what happened. The one thing that terrified me, ended up being our biggest downfall and ultimately the thing that drove us apart. I could have come out of that relationship, terrified to put myself out there again. But, had I not put myself out there to begin with, I never would have had the experiences that were not only memorable in positive ways, but also the ones that taught me a lot about myself and relationships.

Even in jobs I’ve found myself in situations in which I had to buck up and be vulnerable. I’ve had to tell bosses about situations that were less than glamorous. I’ve chosen to open up and share ideas or thoughts, even if I wasn’t entirely sure if they were going to be received well. Be it at work, in social settings and even with this blog. Sometimes, I’ve been right and sometimes I’ve been wrong.

Regardless of the outcome of each situation, I never regretted allowing myself to be vulnerable. Not even in my deepest heartbreak.

Sometimes, I wonder if my fears in various situations, including these were a little bit of intuition at play. Maybe some of our fears in vulnerability come from a very real place. But, at the same time, had I not allowed those experiences to play out and not put myself out there, I never would have learned from them. I would have sat back and wondered.

In all three of those situations, there was always one constant: allowing myself to be vulnerable, which ultimately, lead to being happier.

My friendship, which remains strong, with my girlfriend has almost always made me happy. The friendship that temporarily moved towards intimacy, made me happy at the time and the learnings I’ve taken can only lead to future happiness in my life. And of course, in my relationship there were many, many happy moments and that situation more than any have set me up for what I know will inevitably be a lifetime of happiness down the road.

One of my favorite quotes from Brown’s speech is, “What makes you vulnerable, makes you beautiful.” I believe this. I believe this is true because the most beautiful people are the happiest people and while I am still learning what all the pillars to happiness are, I truly believe, vulnerability is one of them.

Be vulnerable. Be beautiful. Be you.

Enough of This!

I originally started this blog because I like to write, but the only way I know how to write is from the heart. I figured, being a 20-something gal, going through the motions of all that life as a 20-something has to offer would be the easiest way for me to write about things that inspired me, things that shook me and things that mattered to me. Given the topic I’m about to address is something that has been a highly debated topic throughout my 20’s (and before and unfortunately, likely after) I figured my opinion, albeit an opinion- is worth sharing. 

Let me start by saying- enough. Enough questioning whether or not it is okay to “be gay”. I’m tired of the debate. I’m tired of the fact that it is even considered a debate. This is 2013. We have overcome so much over the years (thank, God)- racial rights, women’s rights, various wars,  (I could keep going), and yet in 2013 we still haven’t figured out how to accept homosexuality and similar subject matters, as a whole in our culture? It’s absurd and quite frankly, it’s embarrassing.

The majority of arguments I hear out there (besides those who are just plain honest and say, “It makes me feel uncomfortable”) at this point are ones that typically involve religion, which is ironic because I’m quite certain that heterosexual atheist’s are allowed to marry and aren’t questioned for being together. Sometimes it involves reproductive opinions, which I also find funny given there’s (sadly, for those trying so hard and deservedly, wanting so badly) heterosexual couples who are physically unable to conceive for a variety of reasons, or even some who choose not to, and yet no one ever makes anyone who is heterosexual feel bad for not being able to reproduce (which they DEFINITELY shouldn’t be made to feel bad for). But, at the root of it all, as far as I can tell at this point, it’s typically a religious tie holding this topic back.

Another very common argument and debate I hear is whether or not “being gay” is something you’re born with or something you become. It’s a slippery slope. Truth be told, I think it might swing both ways (pardon the bi-sexual pun).

I guess this would be a good time to tell you all a story. A story that changed my entire thought process on this argument and will forever keep me supporting gay rights.

When I graduated college, I went on to be a teacher. Unfortunately, my teacher’s salary wasn’t quite enough to pay the bills and feed myself and enjoy a night out with my friends, so I chose to be a nanny on the side. I met a family, a Catholic family, mind you- who I immediately felt connected to. I’ll never forget walking into their beautiful home, in a prominent neighborhood and meeting the mom.

She was the kind of person you just knew had a good heart- from the moment you said hello. You just knew it. She had kindness in her eyes and in her voice. She was like many moms out there in that moment- focused on her kids, trying to juggle 3 of them with a looming dinner hour and an interview for a new nanny so she could work part-time.

We talked about the kid’s routines, what the expectations throughout the day would entail, how I handled various situations and then she had me play with the kids for a little while to see how we interacted with each other. Needless to say, the kids had my heart immediately.

There were three kids; a 9-month old boy, a 4-year old girl and a 7-year old boy. I played with each other them, but there was something about the 7 year old I noticed right away- he was playing with Barbies and he spoke with such passion when doing so. He showed me around his room, showed me his dress-up clothes and collection of other toys that I would have guessed belonged to his 4-year old sister. The only thing that I could see this boy was into that had anything to do with “gender appropriate” toys, was his fascination with snakes.

When I came back to finish my interview with the mom, she had a talk with me about their eldest son. She informed me that their son had been diagnosed by a psychologist as Transgender. A person who is transgender is, by definition someone who identifies with a gender other than their biological one. She told me that from a very early age, she knew her son was a little different than your average boy.

He had always gravitated towards female-centric colors, toys, objects. At 16 months old he often walked around in his mom's nightgown and high heels. At around the 3-4 year old mark, to no one's surprise, he would play mermaids in the pool, rather than shooting water guns like the other boys in the pool. He even insisted that his younger sister refer to him as, "sister" rather than brother.

To top it all off, the most significant moment of all that she shared with me was when her son came to her at the age of 4, with painful tears rolling down his cheeks and said, "Mommy. God made a terrible mistake. I was supposed to be a girl." If that doesn't shake you to your core and leave you wondering if perhaps you really can be born a certain way- then I don't know what can. 

This mom carried on to share with me that in the beginning, their family assumed it was a phase. They continued to encourage boy behavior, activities, toys and even friends. But, despite their efforts, the more they encouraged it, the more he objected. They could see a distinct difference in his general happiness and approach when he had to participate in things he didn’t care for or feel connected to, versus things he did, which were typically female-centric things.

After coming together, as a family and discussing the matter with professional psychologists who specialize in the transgender community- they decided it was best to embrace who this little boy felt he should be and give him the support, as a family, he needed to be a happy and healthy child. 

The mom told me that they were raising their son as transgender. As a boy who identifies with being a girl; then she asked me if I was okay with being a nanny in that situation. I couldn’t have been more on board if I tried.

Being a teacher, I knew how important it was/is to honor children for who they are; to embrace their quirks, to work through their troubles and their issues and their strengths.

Now, don’t get me wrong, if this woman told me her son was a sociopath, I would have most certainly hoped that he was getting the psychological help he needed to work through being a functioning human being in society without hurting others. But, we aren’t talking about a person who could potentially harm others- we are talking about a boy who deep down inside somewhere, feels he is and should be a girl.

We finished our interview and the mom offered me the job, which I happily took and I spent the next year being a nanny for a 1-year old darling little boy, a 4/5- year old sweet and determined girl, and a 7/8-year old intelligent and kind hearted transgender boy. They have forever stayed in my heart, because they forever helped me see this topic differently.

After our year together, I decided to take a new career path, which also meant I had to give up my side-nanny gig with them. But, after I left, the mom shared with me something her son told her when I first interviewed.

He told his mom, “Mommy, I like that girl because she didn’t make me feel weird for playing with Barbies.” To this day, even just writing those words fills my eyes with big, watery tears. Their mom told me that in other interviews, the people who played with this boy questioned why he played with Barbies and one person even told him it was weird. At 7-years old, an adult woman told this little boy that his choice in toy-play was weird.

It's important that I note that transgender doesn't mean "gay". Gay is a sexual preference, transgender is the gender you truly feel you are, despite your physical attributes. However, transgender and homosexuality can sometimes merge together, depending on the person. This is a subject that shouldn't be taken lightly and can be hard to understand. In fact, I still find myself wrapping my mind around how it is all intertwined, yet different. But, both subjects, are equally important. Regardless of how much or how little they connect to each other for the individual, this stuff matters and we need to stop hiding from it just because it can be confusing or even uncomfortable. 

I tell you this story, because it is this story that truly helped me understand the argument between whether you’re born gay or you become gay. If someone really wants to argue that even a 16-month old just “becomes” transgender out of nowhere, despite all the odds stacked against him- a Catholic family, a family who in the beginning tried to get him involved with boy things and activities, a heterosexual family and a boy who didn’t spend time around many gay people and you’re going to tell me he just became that way- then you are going to have to do a lot of convincing and a heavy amount of research, because I’m not buying it.

I suppose there are acute times in a person’s life, where perhaps they evolve into being gay, or perhaps they become curious. I really don’t know and I don’t have a ton of evidence for it and I’m definitely not against that notion either.  

What I am against, is this notion that in 2013, we are still having this debate. We are still telling people who were literally BORN with the feelings they have that they aren’t allowed the same rights as those of us who are heterosexual.

These days, we don’t look at a person’s skin tone and question whether or not they should vote or marry (and we SHOULDN’T and NEVER should have), we don’t (and NEVER SHOULD) shun someone who is intellectually challenged because they were born or became that way (through an accident, etc), so why, why would we do this for so many who are born gay or transgender or bisexual or maybe even decide over time that they want to be or are?

Why do we decide it’s our right to make that choice for others? Because religion supposedly says so? Because we’re uncomfortable with the idea of it because it’s not how those of us who are heterosexual spend our every day life being?

Listen, I get it. When I was younger, it used to make me feel uncomfortable looking at National Geographic photos of women in parts of Africa with their tops off, because I just wasn’t accustomed to seeing that. But, eventually I learned that in their culture it’s okay, therefore, why should I judge that?

Tell me how being gay or bisexual or transgender is any different? Tell me how being these things is wrong without brining religion into it. Tell me how someone isn’t born this way when you have so much evidence from people who from early ages showed signs that they are and as intelligent, functioning adults in society, are telling us they always knew from an early age that they were/are gay or are a different gender intellectually. Please, help me understand how this is still an argument.

Let me tell you one last thing about this family- this boy that I was a nanny for. He is no longer being raised as a boy. He is now being raised as a girl. This is a family that has stuck together through a very challenging subject and supported their son/brother/sister as well as each other, along the way.

Together, they decided on a girl name for him. They support him in his choice to wear his hair long like a girl, and if I never knew he was a (physically) boy, I’d never even give him a second glance. With long hair, he looks like a girl. He always talked like a girl and always connected more with girls. This boy, somewhere in the process was given a penis and everything else that as a female, he/she connects with.

Her family embraces her and loves her for exactly who she is and how she is. They support her and while there are no doubt, struggles, they embrace those, too and they do it together, as a unit. The best part of all, she is happier than she has ever been. Now tell me, how can you argue that? How can you argue someone’s genuine happiness by allowing them to be exactly who they are and always knew they were?

I recently read a quote from Madonna regarding gay discrimination in which she said, “I don’t know about you, but I can’t take this shit anymore.” I couldn’t agree with her more.

I’m tired of the debate. I’m tired of the lack of rights and for the continual discrimination homosexuals, bisexuals and the transgender community deal with. It needs to stop. It needs to change. With gay marriage being legal in a few states, it seems like we are on the verge. I just hope it stays headed in that direction and hopefully much faster than the track it’s been on, because it’s been too long.

I’ve had enough. I hope you have, too. 

Perfect Imperfections

I have a friend who is battling a tough battle- anorexia. Through her battle, she’s been brave enough to not only come out and admit her struggle to her loved ones, she’s also found the courage to share her story and her everyday difficulties with the disease for anyone who cares to read it. It’s both inspiring and heart wrenching.

In reading some of her posts, it got me thinking about self-image and our culture’s obsession with “perfection” in the way we look. It made me think about how many of us have things about ourselves we obsess over and wish we could change about our physical appearance; I then began thinking about the things I see as physical “imperfections” about myself.

I don’t think I have a bad body image. I think that at times in my life, I may have, but as I’ve gotten older that’s disappeared. But, I do know that there are things I see in the mirror and think to myself, “that sucks” or “I wish that wasn’t there”. So, I’ve spent some time seeing if I can start looking at those things in a different way- find ways to appreciate them rather than dismiss them as flaws. Here’s a few things I came up with:

-I, like most women, have a few stretch marks. I have a couple on my chest, a couple on my booty and a couple on my hips. I don’t love them, but they are reminders that I am a woman and a woman’s body goes through change and change can be a good thing. Sometimes these little reminders are stuck with us and that’s ok.

-I have a tiny hole in my right nostril and one visible hole above my belly button. I often find myself wishing they’d close up and be invisible, but 8 and 10 years since removing the rings that once filled the holes, they’re still there. I have chosen to one day use these as examples to my children that decisions you make when you’re young can stick with you for a lifetime. These holes will be part of my, "Mama Tool Kit".

-I am naturally very pale. My darkest natural “tan” is most people’s base tan. This, above all things is without a doubt one of my biggest insecurities. Perhaps it was because I was teased as a child about my fair skin or maybe it’s because the media puts a lot of hype around being tan. Or, maybe it’s just that most people do look better with a tan. Either which way, I spent years in tanning beds trying to cover up my natural skin tone- ivory! This past year, I’ve finally begun to embrace it. I still dip into a spray tan from time to time, but I have learned to find ways to love my skin. Hopefully, when I’m a little old lady, this will only benefit me.

-I have a deep scar on the side of my wrist that looks as though I may have attempted to harm myself. I didn’t. The scar is from a puppy I helped raise this past year who scratched me with his 12 week old puppy claws while we were playing. He was the best thing that happened to me in 2012. Even though I may no longer have him, I will always have that scar to remind me of my favorite little buddy.

-I’ve never had a pack of abs. I’ve have/had a flat tummy, but I’ve never had defined muscles in my abdominals. I’ve tried. I’ve tried hard. I’ve slaved away at the gym, crunched my heart out, did more cardio than I can remember and ate healthy (still ate carbs; I refuse to use fad diets). Despite my best efforts, I’ve never had defined ab muscles. And to that I finally say, “SO WHAT?” Sure, they’re sexy, but who cares? Everyone has something sexy about them, abs don’t have to be it. It’s important to develop your abdominal muscles to an extent to support your body, but to obsess over the physical look of them is just plain silly.  I might not ever have them, in fact, I’ve accepted that I likely won’t and I’m totally cool with it. Furthermore, I learned it was time to be thankful for a flat tummy. That in itself is hard work and I'll be lucky if post-kiddos it stays that way. I'm choosing to enjoy it while it's there.

-I have 4 grey baby hairs. I’m approaching 28 in a few months and I have F-O-U-R G-R-E-Y hairs! WTF. WFT. WFT. How? Why? These four little pests are all located in the exact same spot. I can only assume these little strands that accidentally popped out 40 years too soon were put there as a reminder that with age and life experience comes wisdom and Lord knows I’ve gained a dash of wisdom in my life. I’ll assume that’s what those are there to remind me.

These are just a few examples of the things I know I haven’t always loved about myself. But, I’m learning to love them. I’m learning to see their value and learning to embrace them as physical character rather than flaws.

There are some things we can change about our appearance if we choose to. Some things we can enhance medically, some things we can make better health choices towards. Some of these things we should change for our health and some of these things we don’t really need to change at all and might not ever be able to change.

It’s your body, so you get to decide. But, I hope that this post inspires you to take a close look at yourself, completely naked,  especially in the morning when you’re free of any kind of product on your body and find the things you may not love and learn to find something good about each thing. I bet you might just learn to love yourself a little more.

You only get one you and who you are is perfect- we are all perfect imperfections.