Why don’t we talk about our struggles? Why don’t we talk about our pain, acknowledge our flaws or speak of our sins. These are some of the questions that have been weighing heavy on my heart lately, not only because my therapist pointed out to me how afraid I am of having myself seen and how that’s made me hide away the parts of myself that I deem to be too ugly or not good enough or unappealing and unwanted, but also because I realise how truthful her words are. For a long time I have felt insecure about almost everything which, as you can imagine, proliferates my feelings of anxiety.
Why are we ashamed? Why am I ashamed and afraid? Ashamed to be perceived or known as too weak, too emotional, too vulnerable, too soft, too moody, too bitchy, too loud, too aggressive, too much! How can I be afraid of being me? How did I get to the point of wearing a mask for so long that I began to feel afraid and ashamed of showing people who I truly am, to the point where I even forgot who I am?
I know I am questioning everything, I do, after all, consider myself to be an existentialist and a philosopher of the sorts and besides that, questions help me state things better you know? In asking myself all these questions and about a billion more (for which I haven’t got all the answers, which is a hard pill to swallow, but I did.) I have come to the realisation that it doesn’t matter.
Not profound enough for you? Well, it doesn’t need to be because it’s usually the simplest things that are the hardest to do or live-by. Like accepting yourself for who you are, 100%, all the nasty bits, the calloused feet (my feet are a serious problem, shame), the belly pooch, the afro that isn’t quite big enough (yet), the cigarettes I crave and long for all too often (why is addiction so hard???), the one too many glasses of wine I sometimes drink, my laziness, my mental and emotional disturbances and chemical imbalances. All of these things make me, me. Every little bit of ugly makes me, Beauty. It’s that simple but I’m diving into the pool of self-acceptance and reaching into the darkest bits of my soul to try to love myself better, because I deserve it and you do too, or at least the optimist within me hopes so.