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An interesting journey I have been on this year was just finding myself on a deeper level. I had to find out what I really wanted in life, beyond the typical goals. I needed to find what brought sparks into my bloodstream and bones.
Sure, I want to graduate college, I want to find love, I want to move out, those are regular goals. Have you ever achieved a spiritual goal? Those are the best.
Spiritually, and mentally, I wanted to heal within. I wanted to find peace, connect with the world within me, not outside of me.
My mind has been a place I’d throw the worst of the worst in. Didn’t know that with a couple minutes of closing my eyes and saying what makes me grateful could change my whole day.
I realized all this sorrow, all the pain, all the endless turmoil I myself create, was not what life wants to teach me.
Life wants to teach me to simply live. If I keep living in the past, I am not living. If I keep dwelling on my anger, I am not living.
Life is here and now. Life is this moment as I write this. Spiritually, emotionally, and mentally I am growing and healing. It’s a journey I haven’t finished yet, but it’s a goal.
It is a goal I’ve never felt more content pursuing.
When I was a little girl, my world consisted of purple and flowers. Purple was my favorite color, still is. Flowers were engraved in my brain as little human beings. My mother loves flowers. Our apartment has several plants in it. Daisy’s, roses, and strange plants I’ve never seen appear in my apartment every day.
I saw them as people because my mother would sing to them and talk to them. She said plants need love, light, and water to grow. I ended up singing to them as well when my mother wasn’t looking. I viewed them as little versions of me. I knew that I needed lots of love to grow as well. It was evident to me that my mother engraved this philosophy that in life you thrive from love. As you get older, you forget how powerful this abstract word is. I know sometimes I definitely forget the power of love.
I forget that I need love to keep growing into the flower I am. I can say some pretty rude things to myself. I look in the mirror and talk to myself but not the way my mother did with the plants. I honestly tear myself down. I over think. I water myself with music and words that only bury me deeper in dislike and hate.
Till this day my mother waters and sings to her flowers. The other day she said to one of the plants, “You are so pretty. I am proud of you. Look how beautiful those petals look.” Minutes before that I happened to have been beating myself up with words because of my own disappointments and bitterness.
She made me think, when did I stop being that girl who sang to the flowers. The same girl who sang beautiful words to herself. It’s a shame that as I got older, I forgot a flower like me needs love. Self-love to be exact.
My mother reminds me every day that the words we put into living things have the power to help it deteriorate or grow.
“Treat yourself like a flower.”
I might be a hurt itsy bitsy flower, but with some self-love, my petals will always regrow…
Her heart, I held it for a second because it slipped out of her the moment he left.
I told her she’ll be ok and that she didn’t need a man like that.
Worse of all was that she is older than me and would never want me seeing her cry over a man.
But although I was young, I already understood love is flawed.
She assured me she was strong. Wiped the tears off her face and said, “I can do better.”
I knew she could but I also knew they’ll get back together any day.
Despite her being smart she had a debilitating love for this man.
A man who didn’t treat her right, who didn’t love her the way a diamond should be loved.
He treated her more like a second option he can run to when he felt lonely.
She was more like a property he owned and invested in.
I told her, “Get back with him and I honestly might not be your friend anymore.”
Maybe if I scared her it will work.
A week later they were back together.
Yet again, there I was, holding her heart again until he decided to come back and play with it once more…
My hair symbolizes a lot to me. It symbolizes my need for change, my need to be in charge and my need to take out frustrations.
This summer I did something I would’ve never done in the past. I cut my hair above my shoulders. It was shorter than it has ever been in my 22 years on this planet.
Everyone questioned me and asked why I cut my long hair. At first, I would say because I wanted to. Yes, it’s my choice and I wanted to. My hair, my choice to do whatever I want with it of course.
I realized once I kept wanting to cut my hair even shorter that I was doing it for deeper reasons. I was going through a hard time precisely when I made that decision.
I was at a point where I was frustrated with my emotions, myself and my memories. I needed a big change. Something to distract my mind from the hardships of life.
That first time I cut my hair I felt liberated. This change was going to bring me a confidence I was lacking. I was liberated from being the same woman who was melting away inside. I looked in the mirror and saw something different.
The second time I cut my hair even shorter was because I had reached a breaking point. I wanted to keep escaping from who I was and the image I was so accustomed to in the mirror.
Yes cutting my hair was positive but I was avoiding the truth within. The truth that I was unhappy and I had to heal within so I could love what I saw in the mirror.
Short hair, long hair, makeup, bare-faced, I had to fall in love again with what was within…
I used to think the only way I could be beautiful was by being the “ideal” woman. I thought having a small waist, and a goddess like body was ideal.
I thought I’d be less lonely, less insecure and less empty with that ideal body. Got tired of the crash diets, and crying when I looked in the mirror. These few women that society glorifies have this image that the majority of women just don’t pertain to.
Us women come in different shapes and sizes. We are all made of different genes, different features, different beautiful skin tones.
What we see glorified on t.v and what society tells us we should look like is something we need to fight against.
We all come in different sizes and in different varieties. Us women make the world go round and if someone can’t accept your beauty in its unique form, then show them what they are messing with.
Be strong, be unapologetic.
This is a reminder to the world and myself that being a woman is much more than our bodies. It’s our brains, our smiles, our goals, our personalities, the list is infinite.
The “ideal” woman is every woman.
We are all ideal in our own beautiful way.